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AN  INTRODUCTION  TO 
REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


BY 

COLUMBIA  ASSOCIATES  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

LAURENCE  BUERMEYER,  WILLIAM  FORBES  COOLEY 
JOHN  J.  COSS,  HORACE  L.  FRIESS,  JAMES  GUTMANN 
THOMAS  MUNRO,  HOUSTON  PETERSON 
JOHN  H.  RANDALL,  JR.,  HERBERT  W.  SCHNEIDER 


HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

BOSTON  •  NEW  YORK  •  CHICAGO  •  DALLAS  •  SAN  FRANCISCO 

Wqz  fttoersfoe  $ress  Cambridge 


COPYRIGHT,  I923 

BY  COLUMBIA  ASSOCIATES  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED  INCLUDING  THE  RIGHT  TO  REPRODUCE: 
THIS  BOOK  OR  PARTS  THEREOF  IN  ANY  FORM 


PRINTED  IN  THE  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 


In  An  Introduction  to  Reflective  Thinking  nine  members 
of  the  staff  of  the  Department  of  Philosophy  at  Colum¬ 
bia  University  have  cooperated  in  writing  a  book  which 
is  intended  to  show  thinking  at  work  by  describing  some 
of  the  great  achievements  of  thought  in  the  fields  of 
science  and  morals.  They  have  tried  to  indicate  the 
characteristics  of  effective  thinking  and  to  clarify  some 
of  the  methods  of  experimentation,  investigation,  and 
verification  apparent  in  the  thoughtful  handling  of  va¬ 
rious  subject-matters.  The  book  may  be  used  for  a  first 
course  in  philosophy,  or  in  connection  with  an  introduc¬ 
tion  to  science ;  and  it  is  the  hope  of  the  authors  that  not 
a  few  persons  who  have  gone  out  from  college  halls,  or 
have  never  entered  them,  may  find  interesting  this  new 
survey  of  the  workings  of  the  mind. 

The  authors  have  been  much  helped  in  their  treat¬ 
ment  of  the  different  subject-matters  by  advice  from 
colleagues.  Among  the  many  who  have  advised,  especial 
thanks  are  due  Professors  John  Dewey,  F.  J.  E.  Wood- 
bridge,  W.  T.  Bush,  and  A.  L.  Jones,  of  the  Department 
of  Philosophy;  Professor  Henry  Preserved  Smith,  of 
Union  Theological  Seminary ;  Professor  Harold  Jacoby, 
of  the  Department  of  Astronomy;  Professor  W.  B.  Fite 
and  Dean  H.  E.  Hawkes,  of  the  Department  of  Mathe¬ 
matics;  Professor  J.  H.  McGregor,  of  the  Department  of 
Zoology;  Professor  H.  W.  Farwell,  of  the  Department 
of  Physics;  Dr.  B.  D.  Wood,  Assistant  to  the  Dean  of 
Columbia  College;  and  Dean  Harlan  F.  Stone,  of  the 
Law  School. 


Columbia  University" 


CONTENTS 


I.  Introduction:  What  Reflective  Thinking  Means 

Section  1.  What  reflection  is.  Section  2.  Dewey’s  analy¬ 
sis  of  an  act  of  thought.  Section  3.  The  variations  in 
human  ability.  Section  4.  How  thought  is  limited.  Sec¬ 
tion  5.  Mind  and  the  future.  Section  6.  The  purpose  and 
method  of  the  book.  Questions  and  exercises;  Bibliogra¬ 
phy. 

II.  Diagnosis:  Ancient  Egypt  and  the  Massachusetts 
General  Hospital  —  Observation;  Classification; 
Definition 

Section  1.  Two  ways  of  treating  a  sick  man.  Section  2. 
Differences  in  observation  and  their  causes.  Section  3. 
Classification  and  implication.  Section  4.  Definition  as  a 
formula  for  work.  Section  5.  Summary.  Questions  and 
exercises ;  Bibliography. 

III.  The  Development  of  Hypotheses  in  Astronomy 

Section  1.  The  nature  of  an  hypothesis.  Section  2.  The 
observed  facts  of  astronomy.  Section  3.  Ptolemy’s  Hy¬ 
pothesis.  Section  4.  The  conflict  of  authoritarian  and 
scientific  explanations.  Section  5.  The  Hypothesis  of 
Copernicus.  Section  6.  Why  men  accept  the  heliocentric 
hypothesis.  Section  7.  The  fruitful  hypothesis.  Section 
8.  The  marks  of  a  good  hypothesis.  Questions  and  exer¬ 
cises;  Bibliography. 

IV.  The  Methods  of  Experimental  Science:  The  Dis¬ 
covery  of  Causal  Relations  in  Biology 

Section  1.  The  significance  of  causal  relations.  Section 
2.  “Spontaneous  generation”  as  the  origin  of  life.  Sec¬ 
tion  3.  Pasteur’s  investigations  into  the  origin  of  living 
beings.  Section  4.  The  experimental  methods.  Section 
5.  What  is  a  cause?  Questions  and  exercises;  Bibliogra¬ 
phy. 

V.  Deductive  Elaboration  and  the  Relation  of  Impli¬ 
cation  in  Mathematics 

Section  1.  The  nature  and  function  of  mathematical  rea¬ 
soning.  Section  2.  The  Pythagorean  theorem  —  the  em¬ 
pirical  discovery.  Section  3.  The  Pythagorean  theorem 


vi 


CONTENTS 


—  the  proof  for  the  isosceles  right  triangle.  Section  4. 

The  Pythagorean  theorem  —  the  general  proof.  Section 
5.  Critical  examination  of  the  proof.  Section  6.  The 
essentials  of  good  mathematical  thinking.  Questions  and 
exercises;  Bibliography. 

VI.  The  Function  of  Explanation  in  Physics  119 

Section  1.  Explanation  by  analogy.  Section  2.  The  scho¬ 
lastic  theory  of  the  nature  of  physical  objects.  Section  3. 

The  kinetic  theory  of  matter.  Section  4.  The  nature  of 
heat.  Section  5.  The  nature  of  “  explanation.”  Ques¬ 
tions  and  exercises;  Bibliography. 

VII.  Evolution  as  a  Principle  of  Explanation  153 

Section  1.  The  variety  of  living  things.  Section  2.  Spe¬ 
cial  creation:  a  fixed  world.  Section  3.  The  problem  of 
Darwin.  Section  4.  Evolution:  A  growing  world.  Sec¬ 
tion  5.  Some  psychological  factors  in  biological  belief. 
Section  6.  Misconceptions  of  evolution.  Section  7.  Sum¬ 
mary.  Questions  and  exercises;  Bibliography. 

VIII.  How  Reflective  Thought  Deals  with  the  Past,  as 
Illustrated  by  the  Criticism  of  the  Pentateuch  186 

Section  1.  Character  of  historical  inquiry.  Section  2.  The 
traditional  and  critical  views  of  the  Old  Testament.  Sec¬ 
tion  3.  Some  of  the  critical  arguments.  Section  4.  The 
main  logical  methods  of  the  rival  schools.  Questions  and 
exercises;  Bibliography. 

IX.  Reflective  Thought  in  the  Field  of  Values  213 

Section  1.  The  value  situation:  mediate  and  immediate 
values.  Section  2.  The  dogmatic  and  reflective  methods 
of  evaluation.  Section  3.  The  reflective  elaboration  of 
ends.  Section  4.  The  reflective  criticism  of  standards. 
Section  5.  The  emergence  of  standards  and  general  princi¬ 
ples.  Questions  and  exercises;  Bibliography. 

X.  Measurements  for  Use  in  Social  Decisions  253 

Section  1.  Two  ways  of  choosing  a  career.  Section  2.  In¬ 
dividual  differences.  Section  3.  Some  requirements  of 
measures.  Section  4.  Putting  measurements  into  relation. 
Section  5.  The  application  of  measurement  to  an  individ¬ 
ual  case.  Section  6.  The  social  utility  of  measurements. 
Questions  and  exercises;  Bibliography. 

XI.  Reflective  Thinking  in  Law  265 

Section  1.  The  non-reflective  growth  of  law.  Section  2. 

The  legal  “act  of  thought.”  Section  3.  A  case  of  reflec¬ 
tive  thinking  in  law  analyzed.  Questions  and  exercises; 
Bibliography. 


CONTENTS 


Vll 


XII.  Reflective  Thought  in  the  Realm  of  Ethics  301 

Section  1.  The  ethical  situation.  Section  2.  Individual¬ 
ism  vs.  collectivism.  Section  3.  Results  of  the  contro¬ 
versy.  Section  4.  The  evaluation  of  character.  Section 
5.  The  practical  aim  of  ethics.  Questions  and  exercises; 
Bibliography. 

XIII.  Summary  330 

Section  1.  The  modern  consciousness  of  science.  Section 
2.  How  are  beliefs  to  be  tested?  Section  3.  The  tests  of 
thought.  Section  4.  The  influence  of  subject-matter  upon 
the  tests  of  thought.  Section  5.  Some  ultimate  problems 
concerning  knowledge. 

Index 


343 


AN  INTRODUCTION  TO 

REFLECTIVE  THINKING 

•  • 

CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCTION  —  WHAT  REFLECTIVE  THINKING 

MEANS 

Section  1.  What  Reflection  Is  1  - 

l 

To  speak  of  reflective  thinking  seems  strange.  Is  not  all 
thinking  reflective?  If  all  thought  had  to  do  with 
reaching  a  well-founded  belief  which  could  be  defended 
from  attack  and  which  might  be  followed  in  action,  it 
would  be  possible  to  say  that  all  thinking  is  reflective. 

But  sometimes  we  think  in  a  rambling  sort  of  way  and 
are  not  interested  in  any  particular  outcome.  Man’s 
discovery  of  valuable  hints  as  to  the  conduct  of  his  life 
is  of  two  kinds  —  rambling  and  direct.  As  dogs,  when 
companions  on  a  walk,  range  the  fields,  sniff  about  in  all 
directions,  follow  a  multitude  of  paths,  and  nose  about 
under  many  fallen  branches,  thickets  and  patches  of 
brambles,  so  human  beings,  when  they  idly,  playfully 
think  about  the  common  objects  of  daily  life,  or  about 
ideas  so  usual  as  to  be  old  friends,  display  in  their  own 
way  much  the  same  activity  as  the  roving  dogs.  Such 
activity  is  casual  or  undirected  thinking,  and  it  turns 

1  For  this  section,  as  for  the  entire  text,  a  knowledge  of  John  Dewey, 
How  We  Think  (Heath  &  Co.,  1910),  is  important  since  the  ideas  of  that 
book  have  influenced  greatly  the  writers  of  this  one.  Irwin  Edman,  Hu¬ 
man  Traits  and  Their  Social  Significance  (Houghton  Mifflin  Company, 
1920),  will  also  prove  useful. 


2 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


up,  now  and  then,  important  new  combinations  which 
may  be  valuable  discoveries. 

Sometimes,  too,  our  consciousness  is  fully  taken  up 
with  the  appreciative  consideration  of  beautiful  objects. 
A  noble  building,  a  chapel  window  of  old  glass,  an  au¬ 
tumn  hillside  with  blue  sky  and  floating  cloud-bank 
above  it,  a  chorus  from  Euripides  or  a  simple  and  lucid 
mathematical  solution  may  command  our  admiration. 
To  deny  to  such  appreciative  mental  experience  a  place 
in  thought  seems  to  do  violence  to  the  common  under¬ 
standing  of  the  term. 

On  occasion  thought  may  not  be  roving  or  primarily 
appreciative,  but  concerned  only  with  the  spinning  of  a 
yam  which  makes  no  pretense  to  reaching  correct  be¬ 
lief,  but  is  content,  as  Dewey  says,  merely  to  maintain 
an  emotional  congruity.  Such  thought  must  tell  a 
story  which  holds  together;  it  need  not  be  concerned  to 
make  its  content  conform  to  statements  about  the  ac¬ 
tual  relations  of  things. 

When  thought,  however,  is  bent  on  solving  a  problem, 
on  finding  out  the  meaning  of  a  perplexing  situation,  or 
reaching  a  conclusion  which  is  trustworthy,  it  is  to  be 
distinguished  from  other  types  of  mental  activity  and 
should  be  called  reflection.  Such  thinking  may  be  de¬ 
fined  as:  “ active,  persistent  and  careful  consideration  of 
any  belief  or  supposed  form  of  knowledge  in  the  light  of 
the  grounds  that  support  it  and  the  further  conclusions 
to  which  it  tends.”  1 

Section  2 .  Dewey’ s  Analysis  of  an  Act  of  Thought 

a.  THE  OCCASION  OF  REFLECTION 

The  occasion  of  reflective  thought  becomes  clear  when 
the  activities  of  a  day  are  reviewed.  We  rise,  dress, 

1  John  Dewey,  How  We  Think ,  p.  6. 


INTRODUCTION 


3 


breakfast,  read  headlines,  go  to  business,  but  only  when 
the  morning’s  mail  brings  up  a  question  requiring  a  de¬ 
cision  does  real  thought  make  its  appearance.  Thought 
comes  when  decisions  or  conclusions  are  necessary,  when 
the  usual  succession  of  acts  is  interrupted  and  considera¬ 
tion  has  to  be  given  to  the  next  step.1  A  doctor  thinks 
when  he  has  to  diagnose  a  new  case,  a  lawyer  thinks 
when  he  considers  the  elements  of  a  dispute  and  their 
relation  to  precedent,  a  student  thinks  when  he  applies 
his  knowledge  to  the  solution  of  an  original  problem  in 
geometry,  a  city  official  thinks  when  he  considers  the 
best  method  of  making  a  tax  levy  or  improving  the 
school  system. 

b.  THE  DEFINITION  OF  THE  DIFFICULTY 

In  each  of  these  cases  a  difficulty  is  faced.  The 
morning’s  letter  asks  whether  money  should  be  invested 
in  the  common  stock  of  an  industry  or  in  government 
bonds.  Before  any  progress  can  be  made  in  reaching 
an  answer,  the  conditions  of  the  question  must  be  clari¬ 
fied.  A  widow  of  slender  means  is  asking  the  question, 
how  she  may  invest  her  capital  most  safely  and  profita¬ 
bly.  The  reader  of  the  letter,  understanding  her  situa¬ 
tion,  has  cleared  his  field,  and  the  next  step  in  thinking 
occurs. 

C.  THE  RISE  OF  SUGGESTIONS 

This  next  step  is  the  rise  of  suggestions  or  possible  an¬ 
swers.  What  advice  is  to  be  given  —  that  is  the  per¬ 
plexity.  Answers  flash  up  —  buy  bonds,  buy  stocks, 

1  Consideration  of  thought  when  its  operation  is  more  contemplative 
than  decisive  will  be  found  in  Chapters  IX  and  XIII.  It  is  the  hope  of 
the  authors  that  a  later  edition  may  contain  a  chapter  on  the  place  of 
reflection  in  aesthetic  judgments. 


4 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


buy  neither,  but  rather  buy  a  farm  mortgage.  Such 
suggestions  or  others  would  arise.  The  psychological 
machinery  of  their  appearance  we  do  not  fully  under¬ 
stand,  but  the  factors  conditioning  their  excellence  may 
be  named.  Save  by  chance,  penetrating  suggestions 
come  only  (a)  when  the  difficulty  is  clearly  defined,  ( b ) 
when  the  thinker  is  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  back¬ 
ground  into  which  the  problem  fits  and  has  had  a  wide 
range  of  experience  with  similar  difficulties,  (c)  when  the 
thinker  has  a  more  or  less  indefinable  something  called 
now  native  ability,  now  disciplined  but  daring  imagina¬ 
tion,  now  shrewdness,  now  penetration. 

d.  THE  MENTAL  ELABORATION  OF  SUGGESTIONS 

When  the  suggestions  have  arisen,  they  must  be 
tested  by  reference  to  foundations  and  consequences. 
Suppose  the  idea  of  buying  stock  should  be  entertained 
as  the  solution.  In  thought  the  circumstances  attending 
such  investment  would  be  reviewed  —  is  the  stock  safe, 
what  is  its  cost,  what  its  return,  what  its  likelihood  of 
ready  sale.  Each  item  would  be  considered  in  refer¬ 
ence  to  the  conditions  of  the  purchaser,  and  if  all  the 
factors  surveyed  in  the  mental  investigation  fitted  her 
need,  the  suggestion  to  buy  stock  would  be  thought  to 
be  a  good  one;  if  not,  other  proposed  solutions  would  be 
tried  in  the  mental  examination. 

e.  EVIDENCE  IN  FACT  AND  CONCLUSION 

When  the  suggestion  is  accepted,  after  this  imagina¬ 
tive  grilling,  as  apparently  true,  the  careful  thinker 
seeks  confirming  evidence  —  he  may  seek  to  ascertain 
the  opinion  of  others  as  to  the  wisdom  of  his  view,  or  in¬ 
vestigate  the  class  of  persons  holding  the  stock.  Such 


INTRODUCTION 


5 


investigation  may  confirm  his  opinion  and  leave  him 
ready  to  accept  his  judgment  and  say  “buy.”  Unhap¬ 
pily,  before  his  advice  is  given  he  cannot,  as  he  might  in 
other  kinds  of  decisions,  experiment  with  the  actual 
operation  of  his  conclusion  before  determining  finally 
upon  practice.  His  experimentation  for  the  verification 
of  his  belief  must  be  undertaken  at  the  widow’s  expense, 
since  after  she  follows  his  advice  the  genuine  verifica¬ 
tion  will  follow  when  time  shows  whether  the  stock 
bought  proves  a  safe  and  lucrative  investment.  The 
closing  of  the  reflective  process  incident  to  his  reaching 
a  conclusion  comes,  however,  only  after  the  experimen¬ 
tal  verification. 

The  steps  in  the  reflective  process  have  been  described 
in  a  logical  and  schematic  fashion.  In  the  actual  think¬ 
ing  of  every  day  the  order  is  sometimes  as  clear  as  the 
outline,  but  usually  suggestions  come  to  a  person  before 
he  has  analyzed  the  problem  very  far,  in  which  case  he 
develops  the  suggestions  or  hypotheses  immediately. 
These  suggestions,  the  outcome  of  a  hasty  or  inadequate 
impression  of  the  problem,  are  necessarily  superficial 
and  may  lead  seriously  astray  the  man  who  accepts 
them  precipitately.  They  may,  on  the  other  hand, 
guide  and  check  the  observation  by  which  the  difficulty 
is  more  precisely  defined,  and  where  the  situation  is 
complex  and  baffling,  the  final  determination  of  the 
difficulty  is  possible  only  as  the  climax  of  such  par¬ 
tial  and  tentative  suggestions.  Not  infrequently  in 
the  successful  completion  of  each  of  the  steps  practi¬ 
cally  all  are  involved.  An  instance  of  such  an  occur¬ 
rence  is  given  in  the  treatment  of  observation  in  the 
next  chapter.  Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  the  order  given 
above  is  seldom  the  order  consistently  followed  in  an 


6 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


actual  thinking  process;  it  is  rather  a  diagram  of  the 
necessary  steps. 

Section  3.  The  Variations  in  Human  Ability1 

The  quality  of  reflective  thinking  will  vary  with  the 
excellence  or  grade  of  the  thinker.  There  is  a  very  wide 
variation  in  human  ability  to  think.  A  day’s  walk 
through  almost  any  county  in  this  country,  undertaken 
as  a  kind  of  exploration  into  the  society  of  human  minds, 
would  be  a  startling  excursion  for  an  acute  observer  who 
is  at  once  a  good  questioner  and  listener.  At  the  end 
of  the  day  the  inventory  of  minds  would  show  a  range  of 
ability  reaching  from  the  near  idiot  to  the  near  genius; 
the  real  genius  or  the  complete  idiot  would  be  difficult 
to  find.  The  stock-taking  in  the  evening  would,  how¬ 
ever,  abound  in  middle  grades.  Most  men  are  neither 
geniuses  nor  idiots. 

The  thoroughgoing  explorer  might  undertake  to  work 
out  sharply  contrasting  classifications  for  the  minds  he 
had  encountered.  He  would  find  that  he  had  few  per¬ 
fect  examples  of  these  sharp  distinctions,  but  many 
minds  that  had  certain  amounts  of  both  contrasting 
qualities.  He  would  distinguish  the  educated  and  the 
uneducated,  but  he  would  find  most  of  his  specimens  in 
the  partly  educated  class.  He  would  call  some  minds 
resourceful  and  some  helpless,  though  few  would  be 
thoroughly  helpless  under  all  circumstances.  Some  of 
his  discoveries  would  be  classified  as  impetuous,  others 
deliberate;  but  almost  none  would  always  think  things 
out  before  conclusions  were  accepted  or  actions  under- 

1  E.  L.  Thorndike,  Individuality.  Irwin  Edman,  Human  Traits  and 
Their  Social  Significance ,  chapters  9,  1,  2,  3;  John  Dewey,  How  We 
Think,  chapters  1,  2. 


INTRODUCTION 


7 


taken.  A  few  would  be  subject  to  all  kinds  of  supersti¬ 
tions,  even  the  most  obviously  absurd;  while  others 
would  be  so  critical  and  analytical  as  to  cause  the  stock- 
taker  to  wonder  if  they  would  ever  accept  any  statement 
as  above  suspicion.  Another  group  would  be  entered 
as  narrow  or  closed-minded,  and  their  brothers  at  the 
other  extreme  ultra-liberal,  some  even  faddists.  Closely 
akin  to  this  classification  would  come  the  rigid  minded, 
and  their  contrasting  group  the  flexible  minded,  or,  in 
slightly  varied  terms,  the  traditional  or  hidebound  and 
the  progressive  or  free-minded  folk.  Then  there  might 
be  the  imaginative  with  the  literal-minded  as  opposites. 
And  for  a  last  contrast  the  far-sighted  matched  by  the 
short-sighted,  or,  put  differently,  the  predicting  and  the 
surprised. 

These  classifications  are  but  the  faintest  beginning  of 
the  analysis  to  which  the  day’s  observation  of  human 
minds  might  be  subjected.  But  carried  even  this  little 
way,  one  is  led  to  exclaim,  “  What  striking  contrasts  and 
varied  traits  are  to  be  found  in  the  society  of  minds!” 

A  question  is  apt  to  arise  at  this  point,  some  interro¬ 
gation  as  to  the  value  of  these  different  minds.  Before 
an  answer  could  be  given,  one  would  have  to  know  just 
what  kind  of  value  was  to  be  considered.  A  slow  and 
stolid  mind  may  be  good  under  certain  conditions;  great 
imagination  useful  under  others.  If,  however,  those 
minds  were,  for  the  time,  considered  most  valuable  that 
could  best  find  out  the  “real  truth”  about  things,  that 
would  care  most  keenly  to  be  right,  and  that  could  go 
on  to  make  new  discoveries  about  the  world  of  men 
and  things  in  which  we  live,  it  seems  likely  that  cer¬ 
tain  of  the  traits  would  be  found  much  more  desirable 
than  others. 


8 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


A  man  suddenly  confronted  with  a  new  kind  of  dam 
ger,  such  as  swept  over  the  Canadian  lines  when  the 
first  gray-green  waves  of  poison  gas  were  released,  would 
want  as  his  comrade  in  distress  a  fellow  creature  who 
was  something  more  than  a  bundle  of  fixed  habits. 
Such  a  man  might  do  a  well-learned  and  often-repeated 
task  very  well  indeed.  Habitual  ways  of  doing  things 
are  genuinely  first-rate,  after  their  fashion.  They  are 
good  servants,  taking  over  the  performance  of  the  thous¬ 
and  and  one  acts  which  we  all  have  to  do  every  day. 
But  they  are  fixed,  otherwise  they  would  not  be  habits. 
The  set,  rigid,  inflexible,  unvarying  behavior  which 
characterizes  the  predominately  habitual  man  cannot 
successfully  meet  new  situations.  The  blind  man  can 
make  his  way  easily  over  old  ground,  but  on  a  new  and 
unlearned  path  he  walks  slowly,  and  is  in  danger  at 
every  step.  The  habit-man  is  a  blind  man,  he  is  not  a 
pathfinder. 

This  does  not  mean,  of  course,  that  the  ideal  discov¬ 
erer  is  the  man  who  has  had  no  previous  knowledge  of 
the  ground  he  surveys.  The  intellectual  explorer  in  any 
field  should  be  acquainted  with,  familiar  with,  habitu¬ 
ated  to,  the  subject  in  which  he  works.  But  this  habitu¬ 
ation  must  not  mean  the  easy  following  of  long  familiar 
routes;  routination  is  the  greatest  enemy  of  progress. 

Another  kind  of  man  who  cannot  help  in  the  sudden 
danger  is  the  impulsive  person.  A  big  bluebottle  fly  in 
a  sunlit  room  buzzes  about  in  a  most  energetic  way,  but 
there  seems  no  direction  or  purpose  to  its  blundering 
flight.  Its  activity  is  “  full  of  sound  and  fury  signifying 
nothing  it  does  n’t  know  what  it’s  about.  Neither  do 
some  human  beings  when  in  a  kind  of  feverish  haste 
they  try  first  this,  then  that  way  out,  instead  of  taking 


INTRODUCTION 


9 


stock  of  the  difficult  situation  first  and  estimating  the 
varying  likelihood  of  success  attending  each  possible 
line  of  action  considered. 

It  seems  clear  that  neither  the  habitual  nor  the  impul¬ 
sive  man  who  follows  on  the  instant  whichever  control¬ 
ling  tendency  is  present  can  be  called  an  intellectual 
leader.  Such  men  cannot  be  trusted  to  blaze  new  and 
reliable  trails  in  the  wilderness  of  human  ignorance. 
Yet  for  all  that,  trails  have  been  blazed,  and  for  many 
hundreds  of  centuries  they  were  hacked  out,  not  in  a  wil¬ 
derness,  but  in  a  veritable  jungle.  When  we  look  back 
on  the  eight  or  nine  thousand  years  of  history,  and  let 
our  imagination  reconstruct  the  one  hundred  thousand 
or  more  years  of  human  life  that  went  before,  and  the 
half  million  years  of  pre-human  yet  man-like  existence 
that  separate  human  beings  from  their  more  brute-like 
ancestors,  we  ask  ourselves  how  man  ever  came  to  be 
civilized  at  all.  A  part  of  the  answer  is  that  happy 
accidents  occurred.  They  may  have  helped  in  getting 
fires  going,  in  the  cooking  of  flesh,  and  in  the  smelting 
of  metals.  Another  fact  is  that  there  were  rare  individ¬ 
uals  who  were  curious  —  free  and  flexible  minded  — 
and  tried  different  combinations.  They  had  imagina¬ 
tion  and  after  a  time  could  tell  in  advance  what  would 
happen  if  different  things  were  put  together.  They 
were  able  to  predict.  Their  efforts  were  short-lived 
until  speech  and  writing  became  the  transmitters  and 
preservers  of  knowledge.  But  after  that  the  store  of 
knowledge  increased,  and  those  acquainted  with  it  (the 
educated,  if  they  also  displayed  curiosity,  imagination, 
and  the  ability  to  predict)  were  able  to  find  out  more 
and  more  ways  of  doing  things,  of  escaping  dangers, 
of  producing  pleasing  and  desirable  things. 


10 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Just  here,  when  the  benefits  which  progressive  minds 
have  brought  to  man  have  been  indicated,  one  should 
stop  for  a  moment  to  consider  how  sharply  two-edged 
the  sword  of  human  intelligence  is.  Men  find  out 
things  which  are  of  great  use  —  explosives,  steam,  elec¬ 
tricity,  gas,  and  so  on  —  and  yet  just  these  same  things 
unless  kept  in  control  turn  against  their  discoverers. 
Steam  and  steel  made  railroads  possible,  but  they  also 
create  congested  cities,  prove  sources  of  high  finance 
and  public  corruption,  and  give  us  an  apparently  never- 
ending  series  of  labor  troubles.  The  mind  of  man  seems 
much  more  capable  of  learning  how  to  control  nature 
than  of  learning  how  to  use  the  new  knowledge  to  the 
complete  good  of  human  beings. 

This  melancholy  fact  does  not,  however,  diminish  the 
brilliance  of  the  pathfinders.  It  only  indicates  the  su¬ 
preme  importance  of  men  who  can  work  effectively  on 
the  many  problems  of  human  relationship.  We  have 
many  good  bridge  engineers.  We  need  good  engineers 
of  social  relationships  and  institutions,  of  economics, 
politics,  law,  and  education. 

After  all,  only  a  small  number  of  men  have  sufficient 
originality  (a  combination,  still,  of  curiosity,  imagina¬ 
tion,  and  prediction)  to  break  through  habits  and  avoid 
the  difficulties  of  impulse.  The  discoverers  are  like  field 
marshals  or  generals.  They  need  great  armies,  supplied 
with  minor  leaders,  to  be  sure,  but  composed  largely  of 
the  rank  and  file.  Man  might  well  be  proud  if  each  hu¬ 
man  being  could  rank  as  a  general  by  reason  of  his  men¬ 
tal  penetration;  since,  however,  in  the  society  of  minds 
few  attain  the  grade  of  genius,  the  part  of  wisdom  is  to 
make  capital  of  the  discoverers  and  create  a  quick  and 
ready  understanding  of  and  sympathy  with  them. 


INTRODUCTION 


11 


The  function  of  education,  in  large  part,  is  the  mould¬ 
ing  of  minds  capable  of  taking  and  using  the  best  that 
the  world  has  given.  Such  minds  must  be  well  stored 
with  information,  free  from  prejudice,  critical  of  new 
ideas  presented,  and  fitted  to  understand  the  kind  and 
quantity  of  proof  required  before  they  may  adopt  the 
pronouncements  of  the  generals  of  the  society  of  minds. 
To  be  sure  a  formal  education  is  probably  the  first  step 
in  the  career  of  these  generals,  but  nature  has  already 
given  them  an  endowment  far  surpassing  that  of  the 
average  man. 

To  come  back  to  just  this  average  man.  He  makes 
up  most  of  the  world’s  population,  but  he  has  not  begun 
to  use  his  power  in  a  well-trained  and  disciplined  way. 
His  mind  is  an  instrument  for  the  control  of  things  and 
of  men.  The  keener,  the  more  penetrating,  the  more 
persistent,  the  more  inclusive  the  operation  of  this  mind 
is,  the  greater  is  the  likelihood  of  the  moulding  of  the 
world  in  which  we  live  into  an  environment  satisfying 
our  needs.  Not  merely  in  the  attainment  of  the  satis¬ 
faction  of  human  wants  is  the  mind  the  instrument,  but 
in  the  criticism  of  these  wants  or  needs  it  is  the  agent. 
The  kind  of  life  which  seems  natural,  the  kind  of  values 
which  are  accepted  without  hesitation,  the  plays  and 
pictures,  clothes  and  houses  which  men  admire  may  be 
accepted  quite  uncritically  as  a  nation’s,  a  group’s,  or  a 
family’s  inheritance.  If  accepted  critically  or  rejected 
with  reason  or  modified  consciously,  it  is  because  the 
mind  has  been  at  work,  the  mind  as  an  instrument  in  the 
creation  of  a  more  excellent  human  existence. 

Section  4.  How  Thought  is  Limited 

If  thought  is  such  a  creative  and  vital  element  in  a 


12 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


plastic  world,  one  wonders  why  the  world  is  n’t  by  now 
a  kind  of  restored  Garden  of  Eden.  There  are  many 
reasons  why  it  is  not.  One  of  the  most  important  of 
these  is  to  be  found  in  man’s  own  nature  which  is  im¬ 
petuous,  impulsive,  and  passionate.  Thought  is  slow; 
the  very  term  “ reflection”  comes  from  the  Latin  words 
—  “back”  and  “to  turn.”  Thought  is  deliberate  and 
questioning.  Appetite  is  headlong  and  compelling. 
Some  one  has  said  that  we  are  ninety-five  per  cent  habit 
and  desire,  and  five  per  cent  thought.  The  figures  may 
be  wrong,  but  the  idea  is  right.  Take  a  single  instance  — 
that  of  eating.  Thought  can  determine  and  regulate  a 
diet,  but  a  hungry  boy  eats  anything  in  sight  and  as 
much  of  it  as  he  can  hold  —  there  is  no  check  to  his  ap¬ 
petite.  The  motive  power  of  our  natural  desires  drives 
us,  and  thought  lags  behind,  and  comes  to  our  rescue 
only  when  trouble  surprises  us. 

Habit  is  another  of  thought’s  excluders.  When  we  get 
into  any  particular  habit,  we  repeat  acts  easily  and  com¬ 
fortably  as  a  perfectly  adjusted  and  well-oiled  engine 
runs  in  a  power  plant.  The  engine  does  n’t  think; 
neither  need  we  in  that  part  of  our  life  which  is  so  well 
unified  as  to  rim  itself.  Habits  grow  into  a  very  real 
part  of  us,  and  we  like  them.  Old  ways  are  pleasant 
ways,  and  we  love  them  and  hate  those  things  or  per¬ 
sons  that  disturb  them.  When  we  are  defending  our  hab¬ 
its  —  of  belief  just  as  well  as  of  act  —  passion  reinforces 
custom;  and  criticism  or  reconsideration  has  a  poor 
chance  to  win  the  day.  All  this  is  not  at  all  to  say  that 
the  drive  of  desire  and  the  easy  continuity  of  habit  are 
not  good  things.  They  are;  but  they  may  take  over  too 
completely  the  management  of  a  human  life.  When 
they  control,  we  miss  discrimination,  freedom  of  action, 


INTRODUCTION 


13 


change,  improvement.  They  make  us  feel  comfortable 
and  pretty  contented,  and  thought  implies  a  real  dis¬ 
content,  not  complaining,  but  energetically  investiga¬ 
tory. 

The  defense  of  habits  of  thought  manifests  itself  in  a 
multitude  of  ways.  “  Prejudice”  is  derived  from  roots 
meaning  “a  judgment  before.”  When  we  are  preju¬ 
diced,  we  tend  to  repeat  an  earlier  decision  and  to  object 
to  interference.  Under  such  circumstances  we  are  apt  to 
refuse  to  consider.  Men  find  themselves  swayed  by 
personal  preferences,  self-advantage,  dislike  of  one  of 
the  parties  of  a  controversy;  and  in  this  mingling  of  de¬ 
sire  and  habit,  they  are  apt  to  omit  unbiased  considera¬ 
tion  of  all  of  the  factors  in  the  case. 

Another  trouble  with  thought  is  that  it  requires  a 
considerable  accumulation  of  experience  and  knowl¬ 
edge.  Not  everybody  can  think  well  because  not  ev¬ 
erybody  knows  enough.  And  what  applies  to  persons 
applies  to  peoples  too.  Fancy  expecting  an  Eskimo  to 
think  out  an  electric  heater!  To  get  such  an  accumula¬ 
tion  of  knowledge  as  thought  requires,  men  must  have 
a  stable  civilization,  books  and  investigators  who 
bequeath  their  findings,  schools  or  places  to  impart 
knowledge.  Thought  on  a  wide  range  of  subjects  makes 
very  large  demands  indeed. 

New  thinking  requires  besides  old  information  a  hu¬ 
man  endowment  of  great  imagination,  and  this  we  have 
seen  is  a  rare  native  gift.  It  requires  also  means  of  ex¬ 
perimentation,  of  checking  up  the  brilliant  idea  to  see  how 
the  world  of  fact  corresponds  to  the  hypothesis  formed. 
How  could  a  doctor  be  sure  that  he  had  found  in  a  small 
organism  the  cause  of  malaria  unless  he  could  discover 
this  organism  microscopically  in  malarial  patients? 


14 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


The  path-finders  need  instruments,  tools  to  enable  them 
to  use  their  own  personal  instrument  —  thought. 

Section  5 .  Mind  and  the  Future 

From  what  has  been  said  already  it  is  clear  that  man's 
ability  to  think  is  his  most  powerful  weapon  in  his  com¬ 
bat  with  nature,  and  in  his  ascent  to  the  level  of  genu¬ 
inely  humane  existence.  It  is  not  at  all  difficult  to  see 
why  mind  by  reason  of  its  presence  in  the  world  en¬ 
hances  even  the  glory  of  reality.  Understanding,  ap¬ 
praisal,  criticism,  appreciation,  prediction,  verification, 
control  —  all  these  are  products  of  mind. 

The  utility  of  mind  has  already  shown  itself  in  the 
development  of  well-organized  systems  of  belief  —  the 
exact  sciences,  and  in  the  application  of  these  beliefs, 
sometimes  called  truths,  to  practical  problems.  The 
great  French  scientist  Pasteur  stated  in  abstract  terms 
that  fermentation  could  not  take  place  in  sterile  fluids. 
Then  he  proceeded  to  apply  his  knowledge  to  the 
preservation  of  export  wines.  He  had  an  “idea,"  he 
tested  it  by  experimentation  to  his  entire  satisfaction, 
and  then  he  had  the  courage  to  say,  “I  can  put  this  idea 
to  work  in  the  practical  everyday  life  of  men." 

In  the  future  one  may  expect  an  indefinite  advance  in 
our  theoretical  understanding  of  physical  phenomena, 
and  in  our  actual  control  of  natural  forces.  Old  opera¬ 
tions  will  be  performed  more  easily  and  new  ones  added. 
Even  the  most  enthusiastic  prophet  would  probably 
fall  far  short  of  the  accomplishment  which  only  a  hun¬ 
dred  years  will  see. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  expect  that  in  the  understanding 
of  man's  nature  notable  advance  will  be  made.  We 
know  more  now  about  individual  and  public  health  than  ' 


INTRODUCTION 


15 


had  been  suspected  in  1840.  The  knowledge  of  bacteri¬ 
ological  infections,  anaesthetics,  and,  with  these  two, 
practically  the  whole  of  modern  surgery  has  come  since 
then.  Psychology  and  human  physiology,  or  the  study 
of  man’s  behavior,  are  but  infant  sciences.  Their  de¬ 
velopment  will  probably  greatly  increase  the  welfare  of 
men. 

An  exact  and  dispassionate  study  of,  and  a  scientific 
procedure  in,  the  field  of  group  life  is  still  a  goal  to  be 
accomplished.  In  spite  of  this  fact  the  study  of  public 
administration  is  each  year  increasing  and  new  ways  of 
obtaining  control  over  group  action  are  being  standard¬ 
ized.  No  one  can  say  of  the  phenomena  of  human  behav¬ 
ior,  individual  or  group,  that  they  are  simple,  static, 
or  as  yet  thoroughly  predictable.  But  many  believe 
that,  in  spite  of  their  great  variety,  and  their  complica¬ 
tion  by  reason  of  consciousness,  we  shall  some  day  un¬ 
derstand  and  direct  them. 

Section  6.  The  Purpose  and  Method  of  the  Book 

The  advantages  of  a  reflective  life  have  been  indicated 
very  incompletely  in  the  preceding  pages,  but  enough 
has  been  said  to  make  clear  the  importance  of  thought 
in  a  life  which  is  interested  in  the  selection  of  the  best. 
This  book  is  written  to  emphasize  the  part  which 
thought  plays  in  the  formation  of  beliefs,  and  to  stimu¬ 
late  its  readers  to  a  more  lively  realization  of  the  road  to 
a  more  congenial  world  which  lies  open  to  those  who 
think.  It  hopes  to  point  out  some  of  the  workings  of 
thought  and  the  habits  of  mind  which  those  who  desire 
to  participate  in  the  enterprise  of  knowing  should  culti¬ 
vate.  It  does  not  desire  to  hide  the  dangers  to  which 
thought  is  exposed,  nor  to  omit  the  limitations  which 


16 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


thought  encounters.  It  cannot  expect  to  make  men 
think,  but  it  may  make  them  desire  to  do  so  and  aid 
them  in  their  effort. 

For  the  accomplishment  of  its  purpose  the  book  fol¬ 
lows  the  method  of  presenting  contrasting  solutions  of  a 
series  of  problems.  It  may  be  that  through  the  under¬ 
standing  of  two  beliefs  about  the  same  circumstances  — 
such  as  the  relations  of  the  heavenly  bodies  which  both 
Ptolemy  and  Copernicus  studied  —  and  through  the  real¬ 
ization  of  the  way  in  which  these  beliefs  were  reached 
and  the  reasons  why  one  was  discarded  and  another 
kept,  some  appreciation  of  the  character  of  thought  at 
its  best  may  be  reached,  and  some  of  its  methods  laid 
hold  of  by  the  reader. 

In  the  course  of  the  presentation  much  of  the  material 
which  logic  has  treated  in  a  formal  way  is  shown  in  a 
setting  so  concrete  and  real  as  to  bring  it  near  to  the  ac¬ 
tual  thinking  of  the  reader.  By  watching  the  thought 
game  of  some  of  the  masters  perhaps  the  rules  which 
they  used  will  be  better  understood  and  followed  by  the 
novices  than  they  could  be  if  the  rules  were  all  read  to¬ 
gether  in  the  “Laws  of  Thought.”  The  older  so-called 
formal  logic  seems  strangely  technical  and  remote  to  the 
student  of  the  present  day.  Its  nice  distinctions  and 
mathematical  precision  may  be  appreciated  and  en¬ 
joyed,  but  they  do  not  seem  to  be  carried  out  of  the  text¬ 
book  into  everyday  thinking.  Yet  the  importance  of  the 
end  which  the  traditional  logic  seeks  to  accomplish  was 
perhaps  never  more  appreciated  than  it  is  to-day.  To 
serve  this  end,  which  is  the  increase  of  thought  and  the 
improvement  of  its  quality,  a  new  approach  has  been 
adopted. 

A  careful  reading  of  the  Table  of  Contents  will  show 


INTRODUCTION 


17 


the  progress  of  the  text.  Through  chapters  two  to  six, 
the  stages  in  an  act  of  thought  are  illustrated  and  devel¬ 
oped  by  the  examples  chosen.  In  the  chapter  on  a  Di¬ 
agnosis’ 7  the  meaning  of  observation,  definition,  and 
classification  are  treated  as  elements  in  clearing  up  a 
difficulty  —  the  second  stage  in  an  act  of  thought.  In 
chapter  three,  “The  Development  of  Hypotheses  in  As¬ 
tronomy,”  the  suggestions  or  probable  solutions  are  es¬ 
pecially  emphasized.  The  elaboration  or  verification  of 
hypotheses  or  tentatively  accepted  suggestions  (the 
fourth  and  fifth  steps  in  an  act  of  thought)  form 
the  theme  of  the  fourth  chapter  on  “The  Methods 
of  Experimental  Science,”  with  its  treatment  of  induc¬ 
tive  reasoning,  and  of  the  fifth  chapter  on  “Deductive 
Elaboration  and  the  Relation  of  Implication  in  Math¬ 
ematics.”  Chapter  six  brings  with  it  a  general  consid¬ 
eration  of  the  whole  problem  of  explanation.  Chapter 
seven,  on  “Evolution,”  gives  in  broad  outline  the  devel¬ 
opment  of  all  the  steps  in  thought  by  the  survey  of  the 
history  of  a  great  inquiry.  This  chapter,  too,  presents 
the  part  which  anthropomorphic  influences  play  in  our 
thinking.  Historical  investigation  and  its  methods  are 
the  subject  of  chapter  eight.  This  treatment  of  the  con¬ 
trasting  methods  of  handling  an  historic  document  has 
been  included  since  men  are  so  commonly  uninformed  and 
uncritical  in  their  acceptance  of  traditional  views.  The 
last  section  of  the  book,  including  chapters  nine  to 
twelve,  deals  with  problems  of  value,  questions  of 
better  or  worse,  and  attempts  to  show  in  what  fashion  re¬ 
flection  serves  as  a  guide  to  right  opinion  on  personal  and 
social  problems.  A  summary  chapter  brings  a  review 
of  the  principles  and  methods  of  thought  which  have 
been  illustrated  and  developed  throughout  the  book. 


18 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


In  the  early  chapters  including  the  treatment  of  his¬ 
torical  method,  the  illustrations  are  from  fields  in  which 
a  definite  and  on  the  whole  an  accepted  method  of  veri¬ 
fication  has  been  worked  out.  In  the  natural  sciences 
we  have  found  how  to  reach  conclusions  to  which  men 
will  generally  assent.  In  the  later  chapters,  dealing 
with  conclusions  about  values,  good  things  and  bad,  de¬ 
sirable  and  undesirable,  we  find  a  different  situation. 
There  is  little  agreement  on  findings  and  there  are  few  ob¬ 
jective  methods  of  verification.  One  of  the  chief  reasons 
for  increasing  the  acquaintance  with  the  kind  of  thinking 
which  has  brought  certainty  in  science  is  to  increase  the 
possibility  and  desire  of  applying  reflection  in  the  so- 
called  social  sciences.  We  know  fairly  well  the  inter¬ 
actions  of  material  forces;  we  know  very  poorly  the  in¬ 
terplay  of  psychological  forces.  Yet  our  attainment  of 
a  more  secure  and  reasonable  existence  in  a  world  so 
complicated  as  our  own  requires  such  knowledge.  Re¬ 
flective  thought  must  win  new  victories  in  the  empire 
of  man. 

QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  Make  an  outline  of  How  We  Think,  chapter  6. 

2.  a.  Name  two  fields  in  which  you  consider  yourself  sufficiently 

acquainted  to  be  fairly  sure  that  good  suggestions  as  to  the 
solution  of  problems  in  them  would  come  to  you. 
h.  State  a  problem  which  does  arise  in  one  of  these  and  give  the 
suggestions  for  its  solution  which  you  find  coming  to  you. 
c.  How  do  you  make  such  suggestions  come  faster  or  better? 

3.  Tell  what  you  mean  by  the  phrase  “a  fruitful  suggestion, ”  and  the 
adage  “The  proof  of  the  pudding  is  in  the  eating.” 

4.  Explain  what  “critical  acceptance”  means.  Distinguish  between 
fault-finding,  analysis,  and  criticism.  Describe  a  critical  spectator 
at  a  baseball  game. 

5.  Look  up  the  word  “instrument,”  and  the  word  “tool,”  and  write 
out  their  derivation. 

6.  Look  up  the  words  “implies,”  “implication,”  “inference,”  and 
“meaning.”  Write  out  definitions  and  derivations. 


INTRODUCTION 


19 


7.  Why  is  it  just  to  say  that  reasoned  behavior  is  a  greater  advantage 
than  instinctive? 

8.  Make  a  list  of  twenty-five  persons  whom  you  know  well.  Draw  a 
line  and  divide  it  into  five  parts.  Call  the  sections  very  poor,  poor, 
fair,  good,  very  good.  Write  the  names  of  the  twenty-five  persons 
on  the  line  in  order  of  merit  for  honesty.  Do  this  again  for  general 
intelligence.  Again  for  amiability. 

9.  Make  your  own  list  of  mental  qualities  or  traits  ^ten  at  least)  and 
check  those  which  you  would  consider  most  important  (a)  for  an 
explorer,  ( b )  for  a  salesman,  (c)  a  mathematical  astronomer. 

10.  Name  some  invention  of  great  importance  for  man’s  conquest  of 
nature  which  has  also  brought  changes  undesirable  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  best  society.  Describe  the  changes,  their  causes,  and 
suggest  remedies. 

11.  Name  several  men  and  women  whom  you  might  call  human  engin¬ 
eers,  and  state  why. 

12.  Give  an  example  of  the  way  in  which  a  strong  party  man,  who  is 
conscious  that  his  party  has  just  done  a  foolish  thing,  reacts  to  an 
adverse  critic  of  his  party.  What  is  the  meaning  of  “bigot”?  Of 
“a  dogmatist”?  Of  “a  reactionary”? 

13.  Read  William  James’s  Pragmatism ,  Chapter  II,  and  write  a  para¬ 
graph  on  “When  may  we  follow  desire  in  accepting  belief?” 

14.  Show  why  an  habitual  or  customary  judgment  of  a  certain  type  of 
conduct  is  often  right. 

15.  What  are  some  good  reasons  why  men  dread  change  in  the  laws  of  a 
state? 

16.  Why  is  real  freedom  of  action  dependent  on  thought?  (See  John 
Dewey,  How  We  Think ,  p.  64.) 

17.  How  did  the  American  Indians  hand  down  their  knowledge  of  tribal 
custom?  Of  hunting? 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

John  Dewey,  How  We  Think.  Heath  and  Company,  1910. 

Francis  Bacon,  Novum  Organum,  Book  I,  §§  39-65,  The  Idols,  §  129.  The 
Clarendon  Press,  1889. 

Francis  Bacon,  The  New  Atlantis.  World  Classics  Series,  Oxford  Press. 

Irwin  Edman,  Human  Traits  and  Their  Social  Significance.  Houghton 
Mifflin  Company,  1920. 

E.  E.  Slosson,  Creative  Chemistry.  The  Century  Company,  1921. 

E.  L.  Thorndike,  Education.  The  Macmillan  Company,  1912. 

John  Tyndall,  Fragments  of  Science  for  Unscientific  People  (Scientific 
Use  of  the  Imagination).  Longmans,  Green  &  Co.,  1871. 

James  Harvey  Robinson,  The  Mind  in  the  Making.  Harper  and  Broth¬ 
ers,  1921. 

William  James,  Principles  of  Psychology ,  chap.  22. 

1905. 


Henry  Holt  &  Co., 


I 


CHAPTER  II 

DIAGNOSIS:  ANCIENT  EGYPT  AND  THE  MASSACHU¬ 
SETTS  GENERAL  HOSPITAL 

OBSERVATION  —  CLASSIFICATION  —  DEFINITION 

Section  L  Two  Ways  of  Treating  a  Sick  Man 

On  October  8,  1906,  a  fanner  entered  the  Massachu¬ 
setts  General  Hospital.  He  was  thirty-five  years  of  age. 
About  August  1st  he  began  to  have  eruptions,  swellings 
in  various  parts  of  his  body.  He  had  previously  been 
treated  for  an  attack  of  a  disease  of  the  skin  character¬ 
ized  by  non-inflammatory  swellings  on  various  parts  of 
the  skin  and  mucous  membranes.  In  the  middle  of  Au¬ 
gust  he  had  smothering  sensations  in  his  chest,  which 
lasted  from  one  to  three  hours.  On  October  3d  he  be¬ 
gan  to  have  headache,  which  grew  rapidly  worse.  On 
October  6th  he  had  a  chill  at  3  p.m.,  and  the  next  day 
one  at  7  p.m.  Since  the  onset  of  his  headache,  he  had 
fever  continuously.  He  had  lost  much  money  recently, 
but  said  he  did  not  worry  about  it.  A  physical  exami¬ 
nation  showed  that  glands  in  the  neck,  armpits,  and 
groins  could  be  felt.  An  examination  of  his  chest  and 
abdomen  revealed  no  signs  of  disease.1 

If  this  man  had  lived  in  Egypt,  let  us  say  in  the  year 
400  b.c.,  what  would  the  doctors  have  done  with  him? 
As  far  as  we  can  judge  from  the  remaining  historical  rec¬ 
ords,  he  would  have  been  treated  by  many  physicians, 
each  one  specializing  upon  the  difficulties  presented  in 

1  The  facts  of  this  case  have  been  described  almost  verbatim  after 
R.  C.  Cabot,  Differential  Diagnosis,  vol.  i,  pp.  72-74. 


DIAGNOSIS 


21 


some  particular  part  of  the  man’s  body.  One  physician 
would  have  applied  some  paste  or  liquid  to  the  swellings 
in  his  mouth.  A  second  would  have  recommended 
something  for  the  smothering  sensations  in  his  chest,  ? 
third  for  his  headache,  and  a  fourth  for  his  chill.  Still 
another  would  have  applied  himself  to  the  reduction  of 
his  fever,  and  perhaps  some  one  might  also  have  been 
found  to  suggest  a  treatment  for  the  glands.  Mean¬ 
while  what  would  have  happened  to  the  man  receiving  all 
this  attention?  Perhaps  he  would  feel  a  little  better  for 
it.  Some  of  his  aches  and  pains  might  in  this  way  be  re¬ 
moved.  But  for  several  weeks  he  probably  would  not 
feel  wholly  well.  He  might  get  suddenly  worse,  and  die, 
or  he  might  recover  quite  completely,  and  in  another 
month  or  two  forget  entirely  about  his  illness.  At  any 
rate,  during  the  course  of  his  illness,  it  is  highly  prob¬ 
able  that  he  would  not  avoid  contact  with  other  people. 
When  not  feeling  too  miserable,  he  would  probably  be 
up  and  about,  he  would  see  his  friends  as  usual,  and  his 
way  of  life  at  home  would  not  be  changed.  In  conse¬ 
quence  of  this,  it  is  very  likely  that  others  who  lived 
with  him,  or  even  near  his  dwelling,  would  soon  fall  ill, 
and  also  be  obliged  to  seek  the  aid  of  doctors.1 

Now  what  happened  to  the  farmer  at  the  Massachu¬ 
setts  General  Hospital  in  1906?  First,  a  doctor  exam¬ 
ined  him  carefully.  This  doctor  asked  himself  the  ques¬ 
tion:  What  is  really  the  matter  with  this  man?  What 
is  his  trouble  fundamentally?  What  disease  has  he? 
What  the  doctor  saw  upon  a  first  examination  of  the 
patient  suggested  several  diseases  as  possibilities. 
Though  the  man  said  he  did  not  worry  about  his  money 

1  On  Egyptian  medicine,  see  Herodotus ,  Book  n,  sections  84-88;  also 
F.  H.  Garrison,  History  of  Medicine,  pp.  44-51. 


22 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


losses,  perhaps  he  did,  and  such  anxiety  continued  over 
a  considerable  period  of  time  might  possibly  account  for 
his  symptoms.  The  chills  might  indicate  malaria.  The 
glandular  enlargement  suggested  the  possibility  of 
syphilis,  or  of  leukemia,  a  condition  occasioned  by  an 
excess  of  white  corpuscles  in  the  blood.  Finally,  the 
swellings  which  appeared  on  various  mucous  mem¬ 
branes,  and  for  which  the  patient  had  been  previously 
treated,  might  themselves  explain  some  of  the  other 
symptoms,  such  as  the  headache  and  the  fever.  And  if 
these  swellings  were  also  present  in  the  respiratory  tract, 
they  might  account  for  the  smothering  sensations  which 
the  man  had  experienced  in  his  chest  some  weeks  earlier. 

The  doctor  considered  each  of  these  suggestions  in 
turn.  The  constancy  of  the  patient’s  fever  seemed  to 
eliminate  the  possibility  of  his  condition  being  due  to 
financial  anxiety  alone.  A  microscopic  examination  of 
his  blood  likewise  promptly  negatived  the  suggestion  of 
malaria.  Moreover,  the  blood  appeared  wholly  normal 
in  other  respects,  the  number  of  white  corpuscles  and 
their  proportion  to  the  red  corpuscles  being  such  as  to 
prevent  a  diagnosis  of  the  case  as  leukemia.  The  glan¬ 
dular  enlargement  itself,  which  had  suggested  leukemia 
was  not  at  all  general.  Not  general  enough  to  support 
the  thought  of  syphilis,  and  there  was  nothing  else  in  the 
case  to  suggest  syphilis.  Indeed  the  glandular  condi¬ 
tions  were  such  as  are  frequently  found  in  normal  per¬ 
sons,  so  that  there  was  no  need  to  regard  them  as  patho¬ 
logical  at  all.  Finally,  if  the  headache  and  fever  were 
due  to  the  swellings,  there  ought  to  have  been  some  ex¬ 
ternal  eruptions  on  the  skin,  since  such  swellings  almost 
never  occur  on  mucous  surfaces  and  serous  membranes 
alone. 


DIAGNOSIS 


23 


Thus  none  of  the  doctor’s  suggestions  seemed  to  him 
convincing.  He  was  confronted  with  a  patient  having 
“a  continued  fever  and  nothing  to  show  for  it.”  This 
very  inability  to  associate  the  fever  with  any  of  the 
other  symptoms  made  the  doctor  suspect  typhoid.  For 
typhoid  fever  is  a  disease  which  presents  a  great  variety 
of  general  symptoms,  no  one  of  which,  however,  occurs 
in  all  cases,  except  possibly  the  fever  itself.  (And  even 
the  fever  may  sometimes  be  absent,  at  least  for  a  time. 
—  “ Afebrile”  cases)  The  diagnostic  principle  which 
physicians  employ  in  this  predicament  may  be  formu¬ 
lated  somewhat  as  follows:  In  any  case  of  continued 
fever,  where  the  other  symptoms  lead  to  no  positive 
diagnosis,  make  laboratory  tests  for  typhoid  fever. 

There  are  six  or  seven  specific  laboratory  tests  for 
typhoid  fever,  and  two  of  them  are  in  very  general  use. 
In  this  case  the  doctor  had  a  specimen  of  the  patient’s 
blood  sent  to  the  laboratory,  to  see  if  a  typhoid  culture 
could  be  developed  from  it.  The  culture  revealed  ty¬ 
phoid  bacilli.  This  completed  the  diagnosis,  the  patient 
could  now  be  isolated  as  a  typhoid  case,  and  all  our 
knowledge  of  that  disease  applied  to  his  cure,  and  to  the 
protection  of  others. 

Section  2.  Differences  in  Observation  and  Their  Causes 

The  Egyptian  and  the  modern  treatments  both  rested 
on  the  observation  of  a  patient  suffering  from  typhoid. 
The  Egyptians  looked  at  the  man  carefully,  no  doubt. 
They  saw  a  number  of  different  ailments.  They  treated 
each  separately.  They  did  not  see  the  typhoid  bacillus 
at  all.  It  is  easy  to  say,  then,  that  the  observation  at¬ 
tendant  on  the  location  of  the  difficulties  (the  cause  of 
the  man’s  illness)  was  the  reason  for  the  difference  in 


24 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


treatment.  But  to  understand  why  that  difference  in 
observation  existed,  is  not  so  easy  as  the  saying. 

The  location  of  the  difficulty  by  the  modern  physician 
depended  on  his  knowing  what  to  look  for,  what  to  dis¬ 
regard,  how  to  check  his  findings.  These  items  in  turn 
depended  upon  the  accumulation  of  a  great  body  of 
medical  knowledge.  The  first  point  concerning  the  excel¬ 
lence  of  the  observation  is,  therefore,  that  men  observe 
with  the  eye  of  the  past.  The  most  searching  analysis 
of  the  difficulty  is  possible  only  when  the  searcher  is  ac¬ 
quainted  with  his  field.  The  modern  physician  had,  as  a 
part  of  his  medical  equipment,  the  constantly  function¬ 
ing  knowledge  that  fever  is  a  key  symptom,  and  that  it 
is  sometimes  caused  by  microscopic  organisms  which 
can  be  determined  by  laboratory  tests  and  which  must 
be  the  center  of  medical  attack.  Until  the  middle  of  the 
nineteenth  century  men  did  n’t  know  how  to  find  nor 
how  to  interpret  these  organisms.  Men  observe  with 
the  eye  of  the  past. 

But  such  a  statement  needs  qualification.  Although 
the  past  furnishes  the  background  of  experience  and 
knowledge  necessary  to  the  understanding  of  a  problem, 
not  everything  in  the  past  is  important,  and  not  the 
past  alone  will  fit  for  discovery  by  observation.  The 
past  is  rich  because  there  have  been  men  of  genius  who 
have  seen  afresh,  who,  in  the  words  of  the  analysis  of  our 
act  of  thought,  have  had  new  and  fruitful  suggestions 
as  to  the  problems  at  hand  and  who  have  diligently 
checked  their  findings.  Their  discoveries  remain  em¬ 
bedded  in  the  heritage  of  the  past,  yet  they  are  perpetu¬ 
ally  new,  for  they  may  be  rechecked  at  will  by  any  new 
investigator.  To  see  clearly  with  the  eye  of  the  past 
means  to  use  such  signal  discoveries  as  illuminate  the 


DIAGNOSIS 


25 


present  situation  and  to  keep  these  verified  by  reinvesti¬ 
gation.  But  to  do  this  is  not  enough  to  secure  the  best 
observations.  As  additions  were  made  in  bygone  years 
to  the  fund  of  knowledge,  so  to-day  men  come  at  their 
problem  with  inquiring  minds  and  searching  observa¬ 
tion,  and,  because  they  have  in  addition  to  past  knowl¬ 
edge  a  spark  of  genius,  imagination,  deeper  insight,  they 
see  things  which  have  never  been  noticed  before  or 
thought  important.  Such  men  are  usually  willing  to 
take  great  pains  to  be  thorough  and  exhaustive  in  their 
investigation,  and  to  follow  every  implication  or  sugges¬ 
tion,  even  the  most  casual,  which  appears  while  the 
investigation  is  proceeding.  These  discoverers  are  in 
most  instances  high  in  the  scale  of  intelligence.  They 
bring  great  native  endowment  to  their  work.  They 
work  thoroughly;  they  use  the  past,  but  they  are  not 
blinded  by  it,  for  they  look  with  searching  attention  for 
new  factors  which  will  explain  and  control  the  difficulty 
at  hand. 

In  observing  the  fever  and  taking  it  as  a  key  symptom, 
the  modern  physician  would  not  proceed  to  diagnose 
without  getting  all  the  available  qualifying  information 
about  his  patient.  He  could  not  clarify  or  define  his  dif¬ 
ficulty  merely  by  saying  ‘ 1  fever.  ’  ’  Had  his  patient  been 
a  young  child  and  the  fever  slight,  he  might  not  have 
made  fever  his  key.  Had  his  patient  had  none  of  the 
symptoms  associated  with  the  onset  of  typhoid,  the  fe¬ 
ver  would  not  have  been  so  significant  for  his  diagnosis, 
or  at  any  rate  might  not  so  clearly  have  indicated  a 
specific  diagnosis.  The  observation,  then,  included  the 
whole  case.  The  diagnosis,  furthermore,  called  for  fur¬ 
ther  investigation  and  further  observation  of  the  blood 
when  tested.  The  observation  was  comprehensive. 


26 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Observation,  furthermore,  if  complete,  is  not  limited 
to  an  isolated  circumstance,  but  is  progressive.  With 
Hippocrates  in  Greece  (c.  460-359  b.c.)  men  began  to 
realize  that  the  history  and  course  of  a  disease  had  to  be 
known  and  studied.  Our  modern  examiner  would  ask 
for  the  history  of  the  patient,  and  our  modern  hospital 
would  keep  a  record  of  daily,  sometimes  hourly,  change. 
Why?  Because  the  most  significant  feature  for  diagno¬ 
sis  may  be  the  relation  of  the  observed  facts  to  one  an¬ 
other,  rather  than  each  fact  taken  singly.  The  great 
mistake  of  the  Egyptians  was  their  failure  to  connect 
their  observations  sufficiently.  Observation  is  at  work 
all  through  the  thought  process  and  its  verification. 

Observation  depends  on  something  more  than  seeing 
or  hearing.  It  is  reinforced  by  suggestions  arising  in  its 
course.  The  physician  observes  characteristic  a.  This 
perceived,  suggestions  arise  as  to  probable  additional 
characteristics  5,  c,  and  d  usually  associated  with  a. 
Back  he  goes  in  his  observing  to  see  if  b,  c,  and  d  are 
there;  hidden  away,  perhaps,  but  there.  Observation 
demands  the  whole  man  and  not  merely  his  sense  or¬ 
gans.  This  fact  throws  additional  light  on  the  state¬ 
ment  that  the  trained  observer  is  one  who  knows  his 
field  through  and  through.  The  young  physician  in  the 
clinic  marvels  at  the  things  which  his  chief  sees  and  looks 

for.  But  his  chief  sees  with  his  mind’s  eye,  and  the 

\  » 

young  physician  has  not  yet  freely  developed  this  indis¬ 
pensable  organ  of  acute  and  searching  observation. 

Important  as  is  this  inner  sense  organ,  the  fact  must 
not  be  neglected  that  perfect  sense  organs  of  the  unusual 
kind  are  necessary  for  trustworthy  observation.  The 
Egyptian  physician  might  have  been  handicapped  for  all 
his  observing  by  bad  vision.  So,  too,  might  his  modern 


DIAGNOSIS 


9H 


colleague,  but  this  observer  of  to-day  could  correct  or 
offset  his  physiological  handicap  by  glasses.  His  fail¬ 
ing  hearing  he  might  find  harder  to  compensate,  and 
through  it  he  might  miss  important  symptoms  in  the 
sounds  of  the  heart  or  lungs.  Were  the  hearing  unusu¬ 
ally  keen  and  well  trained  in  detecting  the  slightest  ab¬ 
normalities  the  physician  would  have  a  corresponding 
advantage  —  provided,  of  course,  that  his  mind’s  ear 
knew  the  significance  of  these  rarely  detected  sounds. 
Physiological  normality  or  supernormality  are  precondi¬ 
tions  to  correct  observation. 

Another  kind  of  eye,  still,  is  used  in  observing  to  sup¬ 
plement  the  human  organism.  The  modem  diagnosti¬ 
cian  is  greatly  handicapped  unless  he  has  at  hand  his 
laboratory  with  its  equipment  of  microscopes  to  increase 
his  vision  many  fold  and  give  him  access  to  exact  obser¬ 
vations  of  the  most  minute  organisms  which  may  be  the 
root  cause  of  the  disease.  He  also  creates  elaborate  ap¬ 
paratus  for  the  experimental  or  artificial  construction  of 
conditions  under  which  he  can  verify  a  suggestion  which 
arises  as  he  observes  his  case.  He  has  instruments  of  all 
kinds  to  use  in  his  examination,  merely  to  get  complete 
observation  so  that  the  difficulty  may  be  made  so  thor¬ 
oughly  clear  that  the  proper  solution  may  arise.  The 
thermometer  is  one  of  his  most  constant  assistants.  He 
does  not  have  to  rely  on  flushed  cheeks  or  hot  brow,  felt 
by  a  hand  which  may  itself  vary  in  temperature  as  it  is 
plunged  in  hot  or  cold  water  before  it  touches  his  pa¬ 
tient.  His  little  glass  instrument  with  its  mercury  col¬ 
umn,  tested  by  a  constant  standard,  cannot  mistake;  it 
has  no  subjective  factor  which  must  be  discounted. 

Helpful  mechanical  instruments,  keen  senses,  and  a 
proper  mental  attitude  are,  therefore,  the  three  pre- 


28 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


requisites  to  correct  observation.  By  a  proper  mental 
attitude  is  meant  having  valuable  information  which 
guides  your  investigation  fruitfully,  being  free  of  preju¬ 
dices  or  pre j  udgments,  and  so  on.  Correct  observation 
is  the  very  first  demand  of  science,  for  tested  facts  are 
like  stones  out  of  which  the  solid  edifice  of  knowledge  is 
built.  But  how  do  we  know  when  our  observations  are 
correct?  When  can  we  be  sure  we  have  the  facts?  This 
is  a  difficult  question  which  we  cannot  answer  very  sat¬ 
isfactorily  until  we  have  surveyed  the  whole  process  of 
reflective  thinking.  Suffice  it  to  say,  at  this  point  that 
there  are  three  principal  tests  of  observation.  The  first 
is  the  agreement  of  competent  investigators;  the  second 
is  the  agreement  and  congruity  of  observations  with 
each  other.  And  the  third  is  the  utility  of  observations 
in  helping  us  to  solve  our  problems. 

Section  3.  Classification  and  Implication 

The  doctors  in  Egypt  and  in  the  Massachusetts  Gen¬ 
eral  Hospital  had  both  classified  their  patients.  The 
difference  between  the  physicians  was  that  their  classifi¬ 
cations  were  not  equally  significant.  The  Egyptian 
had  a  class  “  enlarged  glands.”  For  this  class  he  had 
one  treatment.  The  modern  has  not  one  class  “  en¬ 
larged  glands,”  but  several,  falling  under  different 
causal  classifications.  Not  the  superficial  appearance  of 
the  glands  is  the  basis  of  classification,  but  the  underly¬ 
ing  and  fundamental  ailment  of  which  the  glands  are 
but  one  manifestation.  The  importance  of  the  way  in 
which  things  are  grouped  varies  with  the  significance  or 
implication  of  the  basis  of  classification. 

The  nature  of  the  instances  under  consideration,  and 
the  uses  to  which  the  knowledge  about  them  will  be  put, 


DIAGNOSIS 


29 


must  both  be  known  before  things  can  be  arranged  to¬ 
gether.  One  single  object  may  be  put  in  half  a  dozen 
different  classes,  and  each  time  usefully,  if  it  serves  the 
purpose  of  the  classifier.  The  classification  of  enlarged 
glands,  as  “things  to  be  treated  in  order  to  cure  the 
man/7  was  bad,  for  the  more  important  “thing  to  be 
treated77  was  the  bacillus  causing  the  fever,  and  if  the 
man  was  to  be  cured,  the  right  thing  had  to  be  put  in  the 
class  “things  to  be  treated.77  But  the  typhoid  patient 
could  also  be  classified  by  the  health  authorities  as 
“possible  cause  of  infection,77  as  “patient  forWard  D/7 
as  “holder  of  disability  insurance,77  as  “interesting  ty¬ 
phoid  case  with  new  features,77  or  as  “Smith,  Martin 
Stone,77  with  perfect  propriety  and  usefulness. 

The  reason  such  grouping  is  useful  is  that  it  carries 
with  it  implications.  Call  the  man  ‘ ‘  cause  of  infection/7 
and  that  means  “keep  him  from  infecting  others.77  It 
also  means  “case  which  came  from  town  X,  and  town  X 
must  be  inspected  in  regard  to  its  milk  and  water  sup¬ 
ply.77  This  fact  of  implication  gives  further  indication 
of  the  skill  required  in  making  and  interpreting  classifi¬ 
cation.  Nothing  must  be  put  in  a  class  having  certain 
implications  unless  it,  too,  has  them ;  and  no  classifica¬ 
tion  can  be  understood  and  made  use  of  unless  the  user 
knows  its  wider  meaning.  But  to  the  physician  who 
knows  what  typhoid  means,  the  diagnosis  by  any  expert 
of  a  patient,  as  of  the  group  typhoid  cases,  is  full  of  sig¬ 
nificance  because  this  group  has  associated  with  it  rules 
for  care  and  cure. 

A  class  may  be  too  large  for  significance.  The  ty¬ 
phoid  patient  is  a  sick  man  —  true,  and  in  a  sense  sig¬ 
nificant,  because  this  means  he  must  have  attention. 
But  put  him  in  the  class  suffering  from  “bacillus  typho- 


30 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


sus”  and  he  can  be  treated  specifically.  A  class  is  a  key 
to  meaning,  and  the  richer  in  meaning  it  is  for  a  par¬ 
ticular  purpose  —  such  as  effecting  a  cure  —  the  better 
is  the  classification. 

The  history  of  progress  in  the  sciences  is  in  a  sense 
the  history  of  classification.  When  Copernicus  put  the 
earth  in  the  class  “body  revolving  about  the  sun,”  he 
worked  a  revolution.  But  before  he  could  make  a  class 
of  “bodies  revolving  about  the  sun,”  he  had  to  under¬ 
stand  the  system  of  heavenly  bodies  and  their  relations. 
Classes,  then,  are  a  product  of  investigation.  When 
significant  characteristics  are  found  in  a  number  of  bod¬ 
ies,  a  class  may  be  made,  and  to  include  a  body  in  that 
class  means  thereafter  to  give  it  all  the  significance  of  the 
class.  Good  observation  demands  the  whole  of  one’s 
powers;  it  is  not  mere  looking.  Good  classification  re¬ 
quires  the  most  comprehensive  knowledge,  not  mere 
ordering  in  group  by  any  chance  resemblance. 

In  a  real  sense  classification  is  the  basic  process  in  all 
the  steps  of  thought.  A  circumstance  would  not  ap¬ 
pear  difficult  if  it  were  recognized  at  once  as  falling  into 
a  class,  and  on  the  other  hand,  if  it  resisted  ordering  un¬ 
der  every  relationship,  it  could  never  be  understood ;  in 
fact,  such  utterly  unrelated  circumstances  would  prob¬ 
ably  not  stir  us,  for  the  thing  which  perplexes  us  is  the 
questionably  or  partly  classified,  rather  than  the  totally 
unrelated.  When  a  suggestion  arises  it  is  significant 
only  in  so  far  as  it  associates  the  perplexing  element 
with  a  class  or  classes  through  union  with  which  it  gains 
clarity.  In  the  final  acceptance  of  the  suggestion  con¬ 
fidence  is  felt  that  an  exact  classification  has  really  been 
accomplished.  Such  an  achievement  may,  furthermore, 
involve  some  adjustment  in  classes  already  established 


DIAGNOSIS 


31 


if  the  new  difficulty  solved  presents  aspects  different 
from  other  members  of  a  class  to  which  it  belongs  by 
reason  of  exhibiting  the  more  significant  characteristics 
of  that  group. 

Section  4.  Definition  as  a  Formula  for  Work 

When  things  have  been  put  in  classes,  men  frequently 
find  it  convenient  to  record  the  fact  in  concise  form,  for 
their  own  convenience  in  explaining  what  a  thing  is,  and 
as  a  service  to  others  who  may  know  the  name  of  a  thing 
but  nothing  of  its  relationships. 

The  malady  which  we  call  typhoid  fever  men  studied 
for  many  years,  and  as  they  made  new  discoveries  they 
recorded  them  in  a  brief  formula  of  identification  and 
implication.  In  other  words,  they  defined  typhoid. 
The  definition  would  not  be  complete  until  it  was  such 
a  compressed  classification  and  identification  as  would 
point  out  typhoid  and  no  other  disease.  The  definition 
might  be,  “  typhoid  is  a  fever  usually  associated  with 
such  and  such  symptoms,  with  such  and  such  a  bacillus 
determinable  through  laboratory  tests  of  a  specified 
character,  and  responding  to  treatment  of  a  prescribed 
nature.”  The  definition  would  be  good  if  it  were  unerr¬ 
ing;  that  is,  if  it  would  give  such  a  class  and  such  sub¬ 
classes  as  could  apply  to  typhoid  and  typhoid  only.  The 
definition  would  then  be  exact,  not  so  narrow  as  to  ex¬ 
clude  any  case,  nor  so  broad  as  to  take  in  any  case  not 
typhoid.  A  brief  definition  suitable  for  dictionary  or 
encyclopaedia  purposes  rather  than  a  descriptive  one 
valuable  for  the  physician  might  be  “typhoid  is  a  fever 
caused  by  Bacillus  typhosus.” 1 

The  definition  would  be  a  formula  for  work  because  it 

1  Encyclopaedia  Britannica. 


32 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


would  carry  within  itself  indications  of  tests  to  verify 
the  identity  of  the  thing  defined.  If  it  said,  caused  by 
bacillus  typhosus  and  gave  the  methods  of  testing  for 
this  bacillus,  it  would  be  as  good  as  to  say,  “make  these 
tests  and  find  out  if  this  case  you  think  to  be  typhoid 
really  is  that/’  Who  had  made  this  definition?  Medi¬ 
cal  men  who  worked  before  the  physician  now  using 
it.  Why  had  they  included  these  items  of  information? 
Because  each  was  significant  for  identification  or  for 
subsequent  action  in  handling  the  disease.  The  framers 
of  the  definition  had  had  their  eyes  on  practice,  and  the 
doctor  who  used  the  definition  found  in  it  a  guide  for  his 
observation:  a  fever  —  yes;  a  bacillus  discovered  and 
identified  by  specific  tests  —  yes;  the  disease  responding 
to  the  prescribed  treatment  —  yes.  The  case  is  clear, 
this  sick  man  belongs  to  that  well-known  class  of  ty¬ 
phoid  patients. 

It  is  very  clear  that  classification  and  definition  are 
closely  related.  Classification  involves  definition,  and 
definition  is  possible  only  by  including  the  thing  defined 
within  a  class,  and  then  by  identifiable  characteristics 
separating  it  from  other  members  of  the  class.  Both 
are  important  in  clarifying  the  situation  because  of  the 
implications  contained  in  them;  and  both  in  their  fram¬ 
ing  are  determined  by  the  purposes  which  they  are 
meant  to  serve. 

Section  5 .  Summary 

i 

The  discussion  of  the  two  cases  of  diagnosis  and  the 
explanation  of  some  of  the  processes  useful  in  clearing 
up  a  doubtful  situation  have  emphasized  several  factors. 
In  adequate  observation  a  basic  idea  is  important,  such 
as,  “fever  is  the  significant  and  correlating  phenom- 


DIAGNOSIS 


S3 


enon.”  The  past  may  give  us  such  an  idea,  but  the  pres¬ 
ent  must  always  recheck  and  be  alert  to  discover  a  still 
better  idea.  Personal  interest  or  bias  may  befog  obser¬ 
vation  or  lead  it  astray.  Observation  must  not  miss 
any  circumstances;  it  must  know  all  about  the  past  and 
future  of  the  thing  to  be  observed.  Observation  de¬ 
mands  a  rich  fund  of  knowledge  in  order  that  an  “  inner 
eye”  may  interpret  the  facts  observed  and  make  capital 
of  their  implications.  The  observer  must  use  all  his 
senses,  unimpaired,  and  may  supplement  them  by  in¬ 
struments,  apparatus,  and  experiment. 

In  valuable  classification,  groups  must  be  based  on 
genuinely  significant  similarities.  The  purpose  of  the 
classification  will  determine  its  character.  The  impor¬ 
tance  of  classification  resides  in  the  fact  that  to  classify 
is  to  give  a  member  of  the  class  a  group  of  implications. 
Classification  cannot  be  valuable  unless  there  is  present 
a  penetrating  and  comprehensive  knowledge  of  the 
thing  to  be  classified  and  of  all  its  relationships. 

Definition  is  compressed  classification.  The  defini¬ 
tion  must  prove  the  means  of  identifying  the  thing  de¬ 
fined  and  no  other.  The  definition  is  a  formula  for  work 
because  it  indicates  means  of  doing  or  observing  things 
to  render  sure  the  identification  of  the  thing  defined. 

QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  Read  John  Dewey,  How  We  Think ,  p.  30. 

2.  Name  several  instruments  which  aid  observation. 

3.  Give  an  instance  of  mal-observation  due  to  psychological  causes. 

4.  Give  an  instance  in  which  physiological  drawbacks  debar  men 
from  professions  or  vocations. 

5.  Show  the  parts  played  by  past  experience  and  fresh  insight  in  the 
good  observation  of:  —  a  slide  under  the  microscope;  the  rise  and 
fall  of  prices;  a  Beethoven  symphony. 

6.  Read  the  section  on  “Classification”  in  one  of  the  logics  in  the  Bib¬ 
liography  and  list  the  errors  which  should  be  avoided  in  classifying. 


34 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


7.  Indicate  several  ways  of  classifying  the  mosquito  and  tell  the  pur¬ 
pose  of  each. 

8.  A  book  was  once  written  on  “The  Great  Henries  of  History.” 
What  objections  do  you  find  to  such  a  classification? 

9.  Read  the  section  on  “Definition”  in  one  of  the  logics  in  the  Bibli¬ 
ography  and  list  the  qualities  of  a  good  definition  and  the  mistakes 
to  avoid  in  defining. 

10.  Make  four  definitions  of  “College  Spirit”  suitable  for  a  younger 
brother,  an  enthusiastic  classmate,  a  loyal  and  serious-minded  alum¬ 
nus,  a  dictionary. 

11.  What  is  a  fact? 

12.  Describe  and  illustrate  with  specific  examples  the  three  tests  of 
correct  observation. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

On  diagnosis  in  medicine : 

R.  C.  Cabot,  Differential  Diagnosis.  W.  B.  Saunders  Company,  1920- 

21. 

E.  H.  Garrison,  An  Introduction  to  the  History  of  Medicine.  W.  B. 
Saunders  Company,  1921. 

Herodotus ,  bookn,  84-88.  A.  D.  Godley  translation.  Loeb  Classics, 
Putnam,  1921. 

W.  Osier,  Modern  Medicine.  Appleton,  1920. 

On  observation,  classification ,  and  definition: 

J.  E.  Creighton,  An  Introductory  Logic.  The  Macmillan  Company, 
1920. 

A.  L.  Jones,  Logic  Inductive  and  Deductive.  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1909, 
W.  S.  Jevons,  Elementary  Lessons  in  Logic .  The  Macmillan  Com* 
pany,  1914. 


CHAPTER  III 

TOE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES  IN  ASTRONOMY 

Section  1.  The  Nature  of  an  Hypothesis 

The  last  chapter,  in  dealing  with  the  indispensable  proc¬ 
esses  of  the  careful  observation  of  all  phenomena  that 
may  have  a  bearing  on  the  problem  in  hand,  of  their 
classification  in  such  ways  as  seem  most  fruitful,  and  of 
thus  providing  the  material  for  an  accurate  definition, 
was  really  an  account  of  the  method  by  which  the 
trained  scientific  thinker  seizes  upon  the  first  step  in  our 
analysis  of  the  everyday  act  of  reflective  thought  and 
elaborates  upon  it  with  all  the  resources  at  his  com¬ 
mand.  Although  the  type  of  diagnosis  that  we  en¬ 
counter  in  modern  medicine,  dependent  as  it  is  upon  the 
microscope,  the  culture  dish,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  ap¬ 
paratus  of  the  laboratory,  to  say  nothing  of  the  carefully 
tabulated  results  of  the  experience  of  thousands  of  phy¬ 
sicians,  may  seem  enormously  different  from  the  kind  of 
analysis  which  we  all  bestow  upon  every  problem  whose 
solution  demands  real  thinking,  in  the  fundamental 
principles  upon  which  it  proceeds  it  is  to  be  distin¬ 
guished  therefrom  only  by  its  complexity  and  thorough¬ 
ness.  We  saw  that  this  analysis  was  followed  by  the 
occurrence  of  one  or  more  suggested  solutions  to  the 
difficulty.  In  the  history  of  science  these  suggestions  are 
usually  elaborate  and  complicated  explanations  of  cer¬ 
tain  observed  phenomena,  and  are  known  as  “  hypoth¬ 
eses.”  In  the  present  chapter  we  shall  examine  two 
famous  scientific  hypotheses  in  the  interest  of  finding 
out  how  a  theory  is  formed  to  account  for  certain  facts, 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


86 

undergoes  successive  modifications  as  new  facts  are 
gradually  brought  to  bear  upon  it,  and  then  may  have 
to  give  way  to  an  entirely  different  theory  if  further 
facts  are  discovered  with  which  it  cannot  be  reconciled. 
How  is  a  great  hypothesis  formulated  by  the  labors  of  a 
whole  series  of  investigators?  What  conditions  must 
such  an  hypothesis  fulfill  if  it  is  to  be  accounted  as  in  all 
probability  the  true  explanation?  Why  is  one  hypothe¬ 
sis,  even  though  it  possesses  great  plausibility,  discarded 
in  favor  of  another?  In  answering  these  questions  we 
shall  be  discovering  what  the  scientist  has  learned  to  be 
the  greatest  safeguards  that  can  be  thrown  about  the 
third  stage  in  the  typical  act  of  reflective  thinking. 

To  illustrate  these  principles  we  have  chosen  from  the 
field  of  astronomy  the  Copernican  and  Ptolemaic  the¬ 
ories  of  planetary  motion.  It  is  appropriate  that  we 
make  this  selection,  for  astronomy  was  historically  the 
first  of  the  natural  sciences  to  be  developed,  and  the  re¬ 
placement  of  the  Ptolemaic  theory  by  the  Copernican  is 
the  intellectual  event  from  which  the  birth  of  modern 
science  is  usually  reckoned.  The  theory  of  Ptolemy  was 
marvelously  ingenious  in  the  way  in  which  it  did  explain 
the  observed  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  the 
conflict  between  it  and  that  of  Copernicus  was  not  a 
struggle  between  a  poor  and  a  good  hypothesis,  but  be¬ 
tween  a  good  hypothesis  and  one  that  proved  to  be  even 
better.  Few  tales  are  more  impressive  than  that  of  the 
long  line  of  patient  investigators  who  built  stone  by 
stone  the  vast  edifice  of  modern  astronomy. 

Section  2.  The  Observed  Facts  of  Astronomy 

So  firmly  ingrained  is  our  belief  in  the  daily  rotation 
of  the  earth  upon  its  axis  and  its  yearly  revolution  about 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


37 


the  sun  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  think  ourselves 
back  into  the  position  of  men  to  whom  these  explana¬ 
tions  of  the  observed  phenomena  of  the  heavens  had  not 
occurred.  But  since  we  are  to  contrast  our  interpretation 
with  another  and  quite  different  one,  it  will  be  well  to 
start  first  with  those  facts  which  observation  of  the  sky 
can  actually  establish.  It  is  these  facts  which  every  hy¬ 
pothesis  must  explain ;  and  it  is  by  its  accord  with  these 
facts  that  it  must  be  ultimately  tested.  From  the  earli¬ 
est  times  men  have  observed  the  heavenly  bodies  and 
have  kept  some  account  of  their  changes  in  position. 
These  records  are  the  result  of  careful  observations  kept 
and  corrected  through  long  years.  The  Chaldaean  and 
Egyptian  priests  whose  records  we  possess,  however,  for¬ 
mulated  no  theories  as  to  the  way  in  which  the  sun  and 
the  moon  and  the  planets  are  related  to  each  other  and  to 
the  earth;  they  were  seemingly  content  to  tabulate  and 
to  note  certain  recurrent  sequences  of  events  like  eclip¬ 
ses.  They  furnished  a  series  of  more  or  less  unconnected 
items,  usually  marked  and  kept  for  some  practical  pur¬ 
pose,  such  as  the  fixing  of  religious  festivals  or  the  dat¬ 
ing  of  important  political  events.  Even  to-day  Easter 
is  fixed  by  reference  to  astronomical  phenomena,  and 
farmers  still  talk  of  planting  in  the  dark  of  the  moon. 

Just  what  are  these  facts  which  form  the  data  of  as¬ 
tronomy?  A  little  thought  will  convince  us  that  all  that 
we  can  really  see  when  we  look  at  the  heavens  is  a  num¬ 
ber  of  spots  of  light,  which  appear  from  time  to  time  in 
different  directions  from  the  earth,  and  which  change 
their  position  with  regard  to  each  other.  The  varying  di¬ 
rections  of  these  light  spots  form  the  only  immediate 
facts  for  the  astronomer;  his  theories  are  all  designed  to 
account  for  the  particular  way  in  which  these  spots 


38 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


move  about.  Their  size,  their  distance,  their  rate  of 
movement  —  these  are  all  items  that  cannot  be  directly 
observed,  and  that  are  based  on  inferences  from  the 
primary  data. 

From  earliest  times  men  have  classified  these  points 
of  light  into  distinctive  groups.  They  have  picked  out 
certain  of  them  and  given  them  the  names  of  the  fanci¬ 
ful  figures  which  they  seemed  to  resemble.  Thus  the 
Greeks  named  the  constellations  of  the  Great  Bear,  The 
Twins,  Orion’s  Belt.  But  another  kind  of  classification, 
based  not  on  this  resemblance,  but  upon  the  kind  of  mo¬ 
tions  which  they  performed,  proved  far  more  fruitful. 
For  the  sake  of  city  dwellers  who  have  forgotten  the  sky, 
let  us  list  a  few  of  the  most  important  types  of  observ¬ 
able  motion. 

First,  the  great  body  of  so-called  fixed  stars,  together 
with  the  sun  and  moon,  appears  to  rotate  about  the 
earth  once  a  day,  rising  in  the  east  and  setting  in  the 
west.  To  the  unsophisticated  observer,  these  heavenly 
bodies  seem  to  be  fixed  upon  the  inside  of  a  great  spheri¬ 
cal  surface  of  which  the  earth  is  the  center,  and  the  vast 
majority  of  them  appear  to  possess  no  motion  but  this 
daily  rotation  about  the  earth.  This  apparent  spherical 
surface  upon  which  the  spots  of  light  which  we  call  stars 
are  seen  is  known  to  astronomy  as  the  celestial  sphere. 
The  fixed  stars  receive  their  name  because  they  remain 
always  in  the  same  position  relative  to  each  other,  al¬ 
though  of  course  when  viewed  from  the  earth  they  share 
in  the  rising  and  setting  in  which  all  the  heavenly  bodies 
participate. 

But  certain  of  the  light  spots  are  not  fixed,  and  change 
their  positions  with  relation  to  the  other  stars.  These 
axe,  besides  the  sun  and  the  moon,  those  called  planets 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


39 


or  wanderers ;  and  from  the  earliest  times  their  courses 
amongst  the  fixed  stars  have  been  plotted  with  great 
care.  Since  the  primary  reason  for  theories  of  the  solar 
system  is  to  account  for  the  seemingly  irregular  move¬ 
ments  of  these  points  of  light,  we  shall  have  to  note 
just  what  these  courses  appear  to  be. 

The  moon,  while  sharing  in  the  daily  rotation  of  the 


Figure  1.  The  Apparent  Path  of  Jupiter  from  October  28,  1897, 

to  September  3,  1898 

The  dates  printed  in  the  diagram  show  the  positions  of  Jupiter.  (From  Berry,  A 
Short  History  of  Astronomy,  Charles  Scribner’s  Sons,  1910.) 

celestial  sphere,  appears  to  lag  behind  it  somewhat,  so 
that  it  rises  about  fifty  minutes  later  every  day.  In  the 
course  of  approximately  a  month,  it  has  traversed  a 
complete  circle  about  the  sky,  and  the  celestial  sphere 
has  gained  upon  it  one  entire  rotation.  Though  it  is  not 
so  easily  observed,  the  sun  also  travels  in  a  great  circle 
around  the  sky,  losing  four  minutes  upon  the  fixed  stars 
each  day,  so  that  at  the  end  of  a  year  it  has  returned  once 
more  to  the  same  relative  position.  These  two  courses 
are  quite  regular,  but  the  planets,  while  in  general  per- 


40 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


forming  similar  circles  from  west  to  east  that  require 
greater  or  less  time,  seem  to  possess  a  much  more  erratic 
motion.  At  times  their  progress  from  west  to  east 
gradually  slackens  and  stops,  and  they  then  seem  to  re¬ 
trace  their  steps  for  a  period  from  east  to  west.  Soon 
they  again  seem  to  slow  up,  stop,  and  then  return  once 
more  upon  their  normal  course  from  west  to  east.  The 
accompanying  diagram  shows  the  apparent  course  of  the 
planet  Jupiter  among  the  fixed  stars  on  the  celestial 
sphere  during  a  period  of  about  a  year.  (See  Figure  1.) 

These  are  the  chief  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies 
which  the  various  theories  of  the  relation  between  the 
members  of  the  solar  system  are  designed  to  explain: 
the  daily  rotation  about  the  earth,  the  more  extended 
courses  of  the  sun,  moon,  and  planets  around  the  sur¬ 
face  of  the  celestial  sphere,  and  the  backward  or  retro¬ 
grade  motions  of  the  planets.  There  are  various  minor 
movements  which  the  great  accuracy  of  modern  tele¬ 
scopes  is  able  to  detect,  and  some  of  these  minute  varia¬ 
tions  in  direction  shared  even  by  the  fixed  stars  will  be 
noted  later  for  their  importance  in  deciding  between  the 
theories  of  Ptolemy  and  of  Copernicus. 

Section  3.  Ptolemy’s  Hypothesis 

The  first  attempt  at  the  systematic  ordering  of  these 
observations  was  made  in  the  second  century  b.c.  by  a 
Greek  named  Hipparchus.  Following  his  lead,  in  the 
second  century  a.d.,  Ptolemy  at  Alexandria  wrote  a 
treatise  which  has  come  down  to  us  under  the  title  of 
the  “  Almagest. ”  He  took  the  accumulated  teachings 
of  his  predecessors  and  made  from  them  what  he  called 
“a  great”1  or  “a  mathematical  composition.”  He 

1  Unless  otherwise  noted,  quotations  in  this  chapter  are  from  J.  L.  E. 
Dreyer,  History  of  the  Planetary  Systems.  Cambridge  University  Press, 
1906. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


41 


placed  the  earth  as  an  unmoving  sphere  at  the  center 
of  things.  The  spherical  character  of  the  earth  he  ac¬ 
cepted  from  his  predecessors.  Pythagoras,  or  at  least 
his  followers,  had  believed  it,  on  what  grounds  we  do  not 
know.  The  earth  was  at  the  center  of  the  heavens  be¬ 
cause  “  heavy  bodies  descend  to  the  center  of  the  heav¬ 
ens,  which  is  the  center  of  the  earth,”  and  because  if  the 
earth  were  not  in  the  center  “one  side  of  the  heavens 
would  appear  nearer  to  us  than  the  other  and  the  stars 
would  be  larger  there.”  The  earth  was  immovable 
because  there  must  be  “some  fixed  point  to  which  the 
motion  of  others  may  be  referred,”  and  because,  “if 
there  were  motion,  it  would  be  proportionate  to  the 
great  mass  of  the  earth  and  would  leave  behind  animals 
and  objects  thrown  into  the  air.” 

Around  the  earth  there  circled  the  moon,  the  sun,  and 
the  planets,  and  outside  of  all  was  the  sphere  in  which 
were  fixed  the  stars,  which  was  thought  of  by  Ptolemy 
as  an  actual  sphere.  These  circlings  were  not  at  quite 
the  same  rate;  the  stars  rotated  fastest,  then  the  plan¬ 
ets,  the  sun,  and  the  moon.  This  slight  gain  of  the  stars 
upon  the  other  heavenly  bodies  accounted  for  their 
apparent  paths  among  the  stars.  Ptolemy  explained 
the  irregular  retrograde  motions  of  the  planets  by  a  sim¬ 
ple  and  ingenious  method.  While  the  sun  and  moon 
circled  about  the  earth  directly,  the  planets  really  took 
part  in  two  circular  movements.  An  imaginary  point 
on  a  planet’s  great  circle,  called  the  “deferent,”  did 
travel  regularly  about  the  earth,  but  at  the  same  time 
the  planet  itself  was  revolving  in  a  smaller  circular  orbit 
about  this  imaginary  point.  The  center  of  this  smaller 
circle  traveled  west  to  east  at  a  uniform  rate,  but  the 
planet  itself  was  revolving  about  this  center.  Its  ap- 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


42 

parent  path  was  thus  a  combination  of  the  two  circular 
movements.  Figure  2  will  make  this  clear.  It  shows 
both  the  large  orbit,  or  deferent,  and  the  smaller  orbit, 
or  epicycle,  and  the  consequent  epicycloid  path  of  the 
planet.  By  comparing  his  figure  with  Figure  1,  it  will 
be  seen  how,  if  we  assume  that  the  epicycle  orbit  is 


Figure  2.  A  Planet’s  Motion  in  the  Epicycle 

(From  Todd,  New  Astronomy ,  American  Book  Company.) 

The  center,  c,  of  the  small  circle,  called  the  “epicycle,”  moves  round 
the  center  t  of  the  large  circle,  called  the  “deferent”;  and  at  the  end  of 
each  24th  part  of  a  revolution,  it  occupies  successively  the  points  1,  2,  3, 
4,  5,  and  so  on.  But  while  c  is  moving  to  1,  the  point  a  is  traversing  an 
arc  of  the  deferent  equal  to  a\,  &i.  By  combination  of  the  two  motions, 
therefore,  the  point  a  will  traverse  the  heavy  curve,  reaching  the  points 
indicated  by  &i,  62,  £>3,  i>4,  &5,  when  c  arrives  at  corresponding  points  1,  2, 
3,  4,  5.  In  passing  from  62  to  64  the  planet  will  turn  backward,  or  seem 
to  describe  its  retrograde  arc  among  the  stars.  By  combining  different 
rates  of  motion  with  circles  of  different  sizes,  it  was  found  that  all  the  ap¬ 
parent  movements  of  the  planets  could  be  almost  perfectly  explained. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


43 


slightly  tilted  from  the  plane  of  the  deferent  orbit,  the 
apparent  path  viewed  from  the  earth  would  correspond 
to  the  observed  course  of  Mercury.  It  should  be  noted 
that  Figure  1  represents  what  can  be  seen  when  look¬ 
ing  along  the  plane  of  the  orbits,  while  Figure  2  repre¬ 
sents  the  orbits  looked  at  perpendicularly  from  above. 
(See  Figure  2.) 

In  taking  this  position,  Ptolemy  apparently  did  not 
assert  that  he  was  picturing  a  real  system.  His  interest 
seemingly  was  in  calculating  and  predicting  the  posi¬ 
tions  of  the  planets  on  the  celestial  sphere,  rather  than 
in  portraying  an  actual  relationship  among  heavenly 
bodies.  He  generally  begins  the  theory  of  a  particular 
fact  of  a  planet’s  motion  by  saying,  “Let  us  imagine  a 
circle,”  and  in  the  introduction  to  his  Hypotheses  he 
says:  “ I  do  not  profess  to  be  able  thus  to  account  for  all 
the  motions  at  the  same  time ;  but  I  shall  show  that  each 
by  itself  is  well  explained  by  its  proper  hypothesis.”  It 
is  interesting  to  know  that,  though  it  is  now  held  to  be 
quite  false,  if  considered  an  objective  picture  of  things, 
it  is  still  possible  to  base  exact  calculations  and  predic¬ 
tions  verifiable  by  experience  on  this  system,  elaborated 
in  accord  with  its  own  fundamental  conceptions.  Ptol¬ 
emy’s  system  was  thoroughly  scientific,  in  that  it  started 
from  observed  facts  and  assumed  nothing  that  could  not 
be  tested  by  comparison  with  those  facts.  It  forms  a 
great  contrast,  for  example,  with  the  somewhat  similar 
system  propounded  by  Aristotle  and  elaborated  during 
the  late  Middle  Ages,  which  regarded  each  of  the  seven 
bodies,  moon,  Mercury,  Venus,  sun,  Mars,  Jupiter,  and 
Saturn,  as  fixed  in  a  great  actual  sphere  of  crystal,  the 
whole  series  being  included  in  an  outer  opaque  sphere 
to  which  were  attached  the  stars,  and  by  whose  move- 


44 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


ments  the  whole  eight  concentric  spheres  were  kept  ro¬ 
tating.  Such  a  fanciful  conception  had  obviously  lit¬ 
tle  but  superficial  similarity  to  the  scientific  theory  of 
Ptolemy. 

Why  do  we  admire  this  system  and  call  Ptolemy  a 
great  scientist?  He  taught  a  theory  long  since  dis¬ 
carded  and  fixed  human  opinion  in  incorrect  views  for 
thirteen  hundred  years! 

1.  He  was  great  because  he  looked  for  natural  expla¬ 
nations.  All  of  the  movements  were  accomplished  by 
reference  to  orderly  and  well-known  types  of  physical 
behavior,  which  were  subject  to  study  at  will.  No  mys¬ 
terious  and  arbitrary  power  came  into  his  system  at  any 
point  to  help  him  out  of  some  unmastered  difficulty  — 
he  did  not  assume  the  existence  of  anything  whose  oper¬ 
ation  could  not  be  observed  and  verified. 

2.  He  was  great  because  he  could  understand  and 
hold  an  enormous  number  of  items  of  information  and 
beliefs  and  compose  them  into  an  harmonious  system. 
As  a  work  of  the  scientific  imagination  his  creation  is 
superb.  Such  achievements  bring  with  them  a  sense  of 
mastery  and  security  in  a  world  where  before  no 'order 
seemed  to  rule.  Such  systems  may,  indeed,  give  a  false 
sense  of  finality  by  reason  of  their  seductive  complete¬ 
ness.  They  may  stifle  further  inquiry.  In  spite  of  all 
this,  they  do  not  fail  to  call  forth  admiration  from  those 
who  comprehend  them. 

3.  He  was  great  because  he  could  construct  hypothe¬ 
ses  conforming  to  a  single  type,  to  meet  his  phenomena, 
and  clearly  recognize  them  as  working  formulas.  His 
hypotheses  were  assumptions  made  to  aid  in  solving 
problems.  They  served  their  purpose  if  they  were  of  use 
in  this  way.  Ptolemy  did  not  demand  that,  in  addition. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


45 


they  should  be  hypothetical  constructions  of  natural 
conditions.  In  his  one-sided  adoption  of  hypotheses  he 
illustrates  one  of  the  enduring  uses  of  scientific  suppo¬ 
sitions,  but  he  also  shows  his  limitations. 

4.  He  possessed  remarkable  mathematical  ability  and 
ingenuity  in  several  particular  solutions,  which  for  the 
sake  of  simplicity  are  not  given  here. 

Ptolemy  lacked  instruments  of  exact  observation, 
and,  as  noted  above,  he  seems  not  to  have  been  troubled 
by  the  question:  “Is  this  system  actually  a  real  picture 
of  the  universe?  ”  Such  a  question  is  vital  when  the  be¬ 
lief  is  concerned  with  physical  objects.  In  addition, 
Ptolemy  did  not  seem  to  be  offended  by  the  need  of 
complicating  his  explanations. 

Section  J+.  The  Conflict  of  Authoritarian  and  Scientific 

Explanations 

In  contrast  to  Ptolemy’s  close  hold  on  observation 
and  theory  conforming  to  nature,  there  may  be  cited  the 
position  of  one  of  his  critics,  who  started  not  from  na¬ 
ture,  but  from  an  uncritical  acceptance  of  a  dogma  — 
an  inflexible  and  unexamined  belief. 

A  Syrian  bishop  of  the  fifth  century,  in  attacking  the 
theories  of  the  heathen,  wrote  that  “the  heaven  is  not 
a  sphere,  but  a  tent  or  tabernacle;  ‘it  is  He .  .  .  that 
stretcheth  out  the  heavens  as  a  curtain  and  spreadeth 
them  out  as  a  tent  to  dwell  in  ’ ;  the  Scripture  says  that  it 
has  a  top,  which  a  sphere  has  not,  and  it  is  also  written: 
‘The  sun  was  risen  upon  the  earth  when  Lot  came  unto 
Zoar.  ’  The  earth  is  flat,  and  the  sun  does  not  pass  un¬ 
der  it  in  a  night,  but  travels  through  the  northern  parts 
‘as  if  hidden  by  a  wall,’  ”  and  he  quotes:  “The  sun  go- 
eth  down  and  hasteth  to  his  place  where  he  ariseth.” 


46 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Such  a  reliance  upon  the  Scripture  accepted  literally  as 
determining  the  details  of  all  beliefs,  we  think  of  as  an 
improper  use  of  authority  in  determining  opinion.  It 
seizes  upon  a  generalization  that  is,  to  be  sure,  based 
upon  a  certain  number  of  observed  facts,  and  applies 
that  provisionally  acceptable  theory  uncritically,  with¬ 
out  recognizing  the  modifications  which  new  facts  must 
introduce.  It  is  a  characteristic  prejudice  of  the  human 
mind  to  cling  thus  tenaciously  to  an  old  view  even  in  the 
face  of  broader  knowledge.  Thus  it  is  interesting  to 
note  that  when  finally  the  Ptolemaic  theory  was  ac¬ 
cepted  by  the  Church,  it  too  became  an  unquestioned 
criterion  for  all  other  doctrines,  and  its  authority  was 
called  in  to  confound  the  new  system  of  Copernicus. 

Section  5.  The  Hypothesis  of  Copernicus 

The  system  of  Ptolemy  was  not  subject  to  serious  dis¬ 
pute  until  Copernicus  (1473-1543)  issued  his  De  revolu- 
tionibus  orbiurn  ccelestium.  Copernicus  was  a  Pole,  ed¬ 
ucated  in  mathematics  and  in  astronomy  at  Cracow  and 
in  Italy.  In  his  writing  he  tells  how  he  was  first  induced 
to  seek  for  a  new  theory  of  the  heavenly  bodies  by  find¬ 
ing  that  mathematicians  differed  greatly  among  them¬ 
selves  about  the  earth’s  motion.  He  therefore  took  the 
trouble  to  read  the  writings  of  the  ancients.  He  found 
a  statement  that  Hiketas  had  believed  the  earth  to  be  in 
motion.  “  ‘Occasioned  thus/  he  wrote,  ‘  I  also  began  to 
think  of  a  motion  of  the  earth,  and  although  the  idea 
seemed  absurd,  still,  as  those  before  me  had  been  per¬ 
mitted  to  assume  certain  circles  in  order  to  explain  the 
motions  of  the  stars,  I  believed  it  would  readily  be  per¬ 
mitted  me  to  try  whether,  on  the  assumption  of  the  mo¬ 
tion  of  the  earth,  better  explanation  of  the  revolutions 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


47 


of  the  heavenly  spheres  might  not  be  found.  And  thus 
I  have,  assuming  the  motions  which  I  in  the  following 
work  attribute  to  the  earth,  after  long  and  careful  inves¬ 
tigation,  finally  found  that  when  the  motions  of  the 
other  planets  are  referred  to  the  circulation  of  the  earth, 
and  are  computed  for  the  revolution  of  each  star,  not  only 
do  the  phenomena  necessarily  follow  therefrom,  but  thfe 
order  and  magnitude  of  the  stars  and  all  their  orbs  and 
the  heaven  itself  are  so  connected  that  in  no  part  can 
anything  be  transposed  without  confusion  to  the  rest 
and  to  the  whole  universe.’  ” 

His  work  had  indeed  been  long  —  it  began  in  1506 
and  was  written  out  only  in  1531  or  1532.  He  states 
that  “  ‘  the  world  has  the  form  of  a  sphere,  the  most  per¬ 
fect  as  well  as  the  most  roomy  figure,  which  everything 
tends  to  assume  as  we  may  see  in  drops  of  water  and 
other  fluids.’  ‘The  motion  of  the  heavenly  bodies  is 
circular  or  a  composition  of  circular  motions,  since  only 
a  circle  can  bring  a  body  back  to  its  original  position. 
The  question  of  the  rest  or  movement  of  the  earth  can¬ 
not  be  considered  settled  since  any  change  observed 
may  be  caused  either  by  a  motion  of  the  object  observed 
or  by  that  of  the  observer,  or  by  a  different  motion  of 
both;  so  that  if  the  earth  had  a  motion  it  would  produce 
an  apparent  motion  of  everything  outside  it  in  the  op¬ 
posite  direction.’  ”  “To  Ptolemy’s  argument  that  a  ro¬ 
tation  in  twenty-four  hours  would  be  so  violent  a  motion 
that  the  loose  earth  would  long  ago  have  been  scattered 
over  the  heavens  while  falling  bodies  would  never  reach 
the  place  intended,  as  the  latter  would  have  been  torn 
away  from  under  them,  and  clouds  and  other  bodies  in 
the  air  would  alwaj^s  be  moving  toward  the  west,  Co¬ 
pernicus  remarks  that  Ptolemy  ought  to  be  more  afraid 


48 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


that  the  immense  heavenly  sphere  would  fly  asunder; 
and  as  to  the  clouds  we  have  only  to  assume  that  not 
only  the  earth  and  water,  but  also  a  considerable  portion 
of  the  air  rotate,  whether  the  reason  be  that  the  lower 
layers,  mixed  with  earthy  and  watery  matter,  are  of  the 
same  nature  as  the  earth,  or  that  the  friction  with  the 
earth  makes  the  air  partake  of  the  earth’s  rotation.” 

Copernicus  next  asserts  that  the  earth  is  not  the  cen¬ 
ter  of  all  circular  motions,  since  the  planets  vary  in  their 
distance  from  the  earth.  The  planets  do,  in  fact,  move 
around  the  sun,  and  so,  too,  the  earth.  The  irregulari¬ 
ties  of  the  movements  of  the  planets  are  not  real  but 
apparent  phenomena,  caused  by  the  fact  that  the  earth 
itself  is  in  motion. 

Copernicus  in  the  course  of  his  writing  proceeds  to 
work  out  the  revolutions  of  the  planets  on  these  assump¬ 
tions,  and  rests  his  case  on  the  possibility  of  this  proced¬ 
ure.  He  does  not,  however,  avoid  the  use  of  epicycles 
to  account  for  irregularities,  though  he  does  decrease 
the  number  required  for  his  computations.  He  is  con¬ 
fronted  with  the  difficulty,  however,  that  his  system  lacks 
a  certain  harmony,  since  he  is  unable  to  solve  the  ir¬ 
regularities  found  in  a  single  planet  by  two  epicycles  both 
of  which  can  at  the  same  time  be  thought  of  as  really  ex¬ 
istent.  That  is,  he  is  still  forced  to  assume  epicycles  as 
hypothetical  entities  to  enable  him  to  account  for  excep¬ 
tions  in  his  system. 

How,  specifically,  does  the  Copernican  theory  ac¬ 
count  for  the  planetary  movements?  Whereas  Ptolemy 
had  to  place  an  extra  circular  motion  or  epicycle  in  the 
course  of  each  planet,  to  explain  their  retrograde  move¬ 
ments,  Copernicus  saw  that  these  movements  could  be 
much  more  easily  interpreted  by  putting  a  single  circu- 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


49 


lar  motion  in  the  path  of  the  earth.  The  retrogression 
thus  becomes  an  apparent  one  only,  and  is  easily  ex¬ 
plained  as  due  to  the  fact  that  the  earth  is  at  that  time 
moving  more  rapidly  than  the  planet  and  overtaking  it. 


Figure  3.  To  Explain  the  Formation  of  a  Loop  in  an  Exterior 

Planet’s  Path 

(From  Todd,  New  Astronomy.  American  Book  Company.) 

Refer  to  the  figure.  The  largest  ellipse,  ABCD,  is  the 
ecliptic.  Intermediate  ellipse  is  orbit  of  an  exterior 
planet;  and  smallest  ellipse  is  the  path  of  earth  itself.  A 
planet  when  advancing  always  moves  in  direction  GH. 
The  sun  is  at  S.  When  earth  is  successively  at  points 
marked  1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  on  its  orbit,  the  outer  planet  is 
at  the  points  marked  1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  on  the  middle  el¬ 
lipse;  so  that  the  planet  is  seen  projected  upon  the  sky 
in  the  directions  of  the  several  straight  lines.  These  in¬ 
tersect  the  zone  F,  G,  H,  J,  of  the  celestial  sphere  in  the 
points  also  marked  upon  it  1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  and  among 
the  stars  of  the  zodiac.  Following  them  in  order  of  num¬ 
ber,  it  is  evident  that  the  planet  advances  from  1  to  3, 
retrogrades  from  3  to  5,  and  advances  again  from  5  to  7. 
Also  its  backward  motion  is  most  rapid  from  3  to  4, 
when  the  planet  is  near  opposition,  and  its  distance 
from  earth  is  the  least  possible.  In  general,  the  nearer 
the  planet  to  earth,  the  more  extensive  its  loop. 


50 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


The  teachings  of  this  sixteenth-century  astronomer 
are  often  referred  to  as  the  Copernican  revolution,  and 
from  them  we  date  the  birth  of  the  modern  intellectual 
spirit.  Tremendous  as  was  the  genius  involved  in  find¬ 
ing  a  new  path  through  the  perplexities  of  heavenly  mo¬ 
tions,  Copernicus  did  not  prove  by  any  physical  experi¬ 
ments  that  the  earth  did  revolve  on  its  axis  and  around 
the  sun.  His  system  was  a  brilliant  hypothesis,  sim¬ 
pler  than  Ptolemy’s,  and  equally  comprehensive.  In  this 
greater  simplicity  consists  one  of  the  chief  claims  of  this 
system  to  scientific  praise,  for  the  scientist  is  constantly 
seeking  for  that  explanation  which  will  meet  all  the  facts 
with  the  least  expenditure  of  assumption.  Besides  this, 
his  theory  was  confirmed  by  the  work  of  his  successors, 
Galileo,  Kepler,  and  Newton,  each  of  whom  added  new 
observations,  and  new  major  theories  which  gave  greater 
sweep  to  his  creation,  and  eliminated  the  exceptions 
which  he  had  been  unable  to  master.  He  himself  had 
doubted,  been  perplexed  by  contradictory  theories,  had 
started  to  try  out  a  new  initial  assumption,  and  had 
found  that  the  superstructure  reared  upon  it  corre¬ 
sponded  closely  —  though  he  knew  that  it  was  not  ex¬ 
actly  —  to  the  phenomena  to  be  explained.  It  was  a 
trial  of  a  seemingly  possible  shift  in  basic  principle  and 
an  example  of  tireless  scrutiny  of  the  consequences. 
In  his  ability  to  use  the  great  tool  of  astronomical 
theory  —  mathematics  —  he  equaled,  but  probably 
did  not  surpass  Ptolemy;  but  he  built  a  new  system. 
Ptolemy  organized  an  old  one.  His  main  concep¬ 
tions,  furthermore,  did,  in  years  to  come,  fit  into  new 
discoveries  when  the  assumptions  of  Ptolemy  proved 
useless. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


51 


Section  6.  Why  Men  accept  the  Heliocentric  Hypothesis 

Although  Copernicus  had  set  up  an  alternative  the¬ 
ory  to  the  time-honored  Ptolemaic  description  of  the 
solar  system,  and  had  succeeded  in  the  main  in  making 
it  fit  the  observed  facts  about  the  successive  positions 
occupied  by  the  heavenly  bodies,  he  had  not  offered  any 
direct  proof  that  his  hypothesis  was  true  while  that  of 
Ptolemy  was  false.  Nevertheless,  he  was  firmly  con¬ 
vinced  of  its  truth  himself,  and  despite  the  fact  that 
no  experimental  proof  was  immediately  forthcoming, 
within  the  next  century  the  Copernican  theory  had  been 
adopted  by  all  the  greatest  astronomers.  Why  did 
these  men  throw  overboard  a  firmly  established  theory 
and  adhere  to  a  new  and  daring  hypothesis,  seemingly 
utterly  subversive  of  all  that  had  been  established  in 
thought,  when  there  was  actually  no  decisive  proof  that 
the  old  theory  was  false  or  that  the  new  theory  was  true? 
Unless  we  can  understand  their  action,  and  the  reasons 
for  it,  we  shall  not  be  able  to  understand  much  of  that 
fabric  of  theories  and  hypotheses  which  goes  to  make  up 
modern  science.  Nearly  all  of  the  marvelous  advance 
we  have  made  in  solving  the  secrets  of  nature  has  been 
due  precisely  to  this,  that  scientists  have  preferred  one 
hypothesis  to  another,  and  by  that  preference,  however 
unable  it  may  have  been  to  justify  itself  immediately  on 
grounds  of  strict  proof,  have  been  led  to  many  new  dis¬ 
coveries  of  fact. 

Indeed,  it  is  not  usually  recognized  by  the  layman 
that  even  to-day  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  Copernican 
theory  has,  strictly  speaking,  been  proved  true.  It  is 
still  quite  possible  to  explain  all  of  the  observed  facts  of 
astronomy  by  means  of  the  Ptolemaic  theory,  although. 


52 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


of  course,  that  theory  would  have  to  be  made  much  more 
complex  by  the  introduction  of  new  epicycles  for  each 
newly  discovered  celestial  phenomenon.  Nevertheless, 
probably  no  other  scientific  hypothesis  is  so  universally 
accepted  as  the  Copernican,  and  the  astronomer  who 
seriously  upheld  the  Ptolemaic  theory  to-day  would  be 
regarded  as  an  amusing  crank.  If  this  belief  rests  upon 
no  conclusive  proof,  why  do  all  scientists  maintain  it  as 
almost  axiomatic?  In  answering  this  question,  we  shall 
discover  some  extremely  important  things  about  the  way 
in  which  the  scientifically  trained  mind  tests  hypotheses. 

Although  Copernicus  did  not  attempt  to  disprove  the 
Ptolemaic  theory,  he  did  work  long  and  hard  to  show 
that  his  new  hypothesis  would  explain  all  the  observable 
facts.  Had  there  been  any  planetary  motions  which  it 
could  not  explain,  while  his  predecessor’s  theory  could, 
obviously  his  theory  would  have  been  worthless.  This 
is  the  first  requisite  of  a  good  hypothesis,  that  it  must  be 
consistent  with  all  the  known  facts;  at  least,  with  more 
of  them  than  any  rival  theory.  And  when  he  had  proved 
this  of  his  heliocentric  hypothesis,  Copernicus  was  con¬ 
tent  to  leave  to  others  the  disproof  of  the  old  theory. 

Astronomers  now  had  before  them  two  hypotheses, 
both  of  which  seemed  able  to  account  for  all  the  ob¬ 
served  motions  of  the  stars.  Obviously  only  one  could 
be  true.  Either  the  earth,  together  with  the  other  plan¬ 
ets,  went  around  the  sun,  or  the  sun  and  planets  went 
around  the  earth  —  the  motion  being,  of  course,  meas¬ 
ured  in  comparison  with  the  fixed  stars.  Hence  as¬ 
tronomers,  in  the  absence  of  direct  proof,  were  forced 
to  choose  one  or  the  other,  and  they  chose  the  simpler 
hypothesis.  The  greater  simplicity  of  the  Copernican 
system,  which  in  its  completed  form  got  rid  of  all  the 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


53 

epicycles  built  upon  epicycles,  made  calculated  pre¬ 
dictions  somewhat  easier  to  work  out;  though,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  actual  reckoning  is  carried  out  by 
means  of  the  same  equations  under  either  hypothesis. 
But,  besides  the  practical  advantage  of  facilitating  com¬ 
putation,  the  human  mind,  and  perhaps  especially  the 
mind  of  the  scientist,  feels  that  a  simple  explanation 
without  undue  complexities,  one  great  formula  that  will 
comprehend  an  infinite  series  of  phenomena,  is  more  at¬ 
tractive,  more  beautiful,  and,  other  things  being  equal, 
more  apt  to  be  true  than  one  that  is  extremely  involved. 
Perhaps  this  simplicity  is  inherent  in  the  nature  of 
things,  and  in  seeking  for  it  men  are  looking  for  what  is  a 
great  truth  about  our  universe.  Many  of  the  foremost 
thinkers  would  agree  with  Sir  Isaac  Newton  when  he 
says:  “ Nature  does  nothing  in  vain,  and  more  is  in  vain 
when  less  will  serve;  for  Nature  is  pleased  with  simplic¬ 
ity,  and  affects  not  the  pomp  of  superfluous  causes.” 1 
Perhaps  this  desire  for  simplicity  is  rather  a  characteris¬ 
tic  trait  of  the  mind  of  man  than  the  result  of  the  experi¬ 
ence  of  nature ;  certainly  with  increased  facilities  for  ob¬ 
servation  we  are  often  forced  to  recognize  that  facts  are 
much  more  complex  than  we  had  hoped.  Whatsoever 
its  foundation,  however,  this  craving  for  the  simple  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  in  scientific  thinking.  It  is  gen¬ 
erally  known  as  the  “Law  of  Parsimony,”  and  can  be 
formulated,  If  two  hypotheses  each  account  equally  for 
all  the  observed  facts,  the  simpler  one  —  that  is,  the  one 
which  makes  the  fewer  assumptions  —  is  to  be  preferred 
to  the  more  complex.  And  it  was  largely  because  of 
the  principle  so  expressed  that  the  Copernican  system 
gained  such  rapid  and  complete  dominance. 

1  Newton,  Principia,  Book  III. 


54 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Naturally,  however,  astronomers  were  eager  to  find 
some  more  conclusive  demonstration  of  the  correctness 
of  the  Copernican  theory.  Did  both  hypotheses  explain 
equally  all  the  observed  facts?  The  apparent  motions 
of  all  the  members  of  the  solar  system  could  be  calcu¬ 
lated  and  predicted  with  almost  equal  facility  under 
both  theories.  Could  men  discover  certain  motions  in 
the  fixed  stars  that  would  furnish  a  final  proof?  Two 
courses  were  open.  One  could  proceed  to  elaborate 
each  theory,  to  see  what  further  consequences  each 
would  imply  if  it  were  true,  and  then  to  investigate 
whether  these  further  consequences  actually  did  take 
place.  Or  one  could  observe  some  new  fact  that  could 
not  be  satisfactorily  accounted  for  by  one  of  the  theo¬ 
ries,  and  which  would  thus  disprove  it.  These  are  the 
two  ways  in  which  all  scientific  hypotheses  are  subjected 
to  scrutiny  and  testing.  Whenever  a  new  theory  is  pro¬ 
pounded,  there  is  carried  on  this  double  process  of  elab¬ 
oration  and  development  to  discover  its  utmost  possi¬ 
ble  bearings,  and  of  constant  reference  to  the  observable 
facts.  If  it  be  true,  then  such  and  such  things  must  fol¬ 
low.  Do  they?  Such  and  such  phenomena  are  ob¬ 
served.  Does  our  theory  explain  them?  In  the  natural 
sciences  this  first  development  is  made  possible  largely 
by  means  of  mathematical  calculation.  If  such  and  such 
a  theory  is  true,  then  these  equations  hold,  and  from 
them  we  can  deduce  other  equations  which  lead  to  the 
following  conclusion.  If  that  conclusion  prove  correct 
in  experiment,  the  original  theory  has  been  verified.  In 
astronomy,  the  positions  all  the  heavenly  bodies  would 
have  to  assume  on  the  basis  of  the  theory  are  calculated 
with  great  precision,  and  then  the  telescope  is  pointed  to 
those  spots  in  the  sky  to  observe  their  presence  or  absence. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


55 


Men  at  once  saw  that  if  the  Copernican  hypothesis 
were  correct,  and  the  earth  did  revolve  about  the  sun, 
the  stars  would  have  to  appear  in  different  positions 
when  viewed  from  different  points  in  the  earth’s  orbit, 
just  as  when  one  walks  around  his  dinner  table  the  pic¬ 
tures  upon  the  walls  appear  in  different  relation  to  each 
other.  But  no  telescope  in  the  sixteenth  or  seven¬ 
teenth  century  could  reveal  any  change  in  the  apparent 
positions  of  the  fixed  stars.  This  objection  seemed  to 
even  the  great  Tycho  Brahe  (1546-1601)  irreconcilable 
with  the  heliocentric  hypothesis,  and  he  formulated  a 
system  in  which,  although  the  planets  went  about  the 
sun,  the  sun  in  turn,  together  with  the  starry  sphere,  ro¬ 
tated  about  the  earth.  The  upholders  of  Copernicus  re¬ 
plied  that  the  stars  were  so  exceedingly  distant  that  the 
change  in  position  of  the  earth  in  its  orbit  could  make  no 
discoverable  difference  in  their  apparent  positions.  But 
the  fact  that  if  the  earth  did  revolve  the  stars  should 
change  their  position,  however  slightly,  and  the  fact 
that  there  was  no  discernible  change,  led  men  to  investi¬ 
gate  with  the  utmost  precision  in  the  hope  of  establish¬ 
ing  this  conclusive  proof  of  the  heliocentric  hypothesis. 

It  was  not  until  1838  that  astronomical  instruments 
became  accurate  enough  to  detect  the  extremely  small 
variation  in  the  apparent  position  of  a  star  attributable 
to  the  earth’s  motion.  In  that  year  Bessel  measured  the 
minute  orbit  which  the  star  61  Cygni  seems  to  describe, 
and  since  then  some  fifty  other  stars  have  been  found 
near  enough  to  the  earth  to  be  affected  by  her  move¬ 
ment.  In  explanation  of  the  inability  of  the  early  in¬ 
vestigators  to  detect  these  tiny  orbits,  it  can  be  said  that 
that  of  61  Cygni  is  as  difficult  to  measure  as  a  penny 
would  be  at  a  distance  of  three  miles. 


56 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


What  had  Bessel  done?  He  had  observed  a  fact 
which  could  be  beautifully  explained  on  the  assumption 
that  the  earth  moved.  But  could  not  the  geocentric 
theory  also  explain  such  facts?  Strictly  speaking,  it 
could  take  account  of  them;  that  is,  one  could  still  as¬ 
sume  that  the  earth  was  immobile,  but  one  would  have 
to  assume  also  that  all  of  the  stars  whose  displacement 
had  been  observed  had  an  annual  motion  of  their  own, 
and  revolved  in  epicycles.  Why  should  these  motions 
be  completed  in  just  a  year  if  they  had  no  connection  with 
the  earth?  On  the  Ptolemaic  theory,  these  facts  would 
have  been  accepted  as  unrelated;  on  the  Copernican, 
they  could  be  explained. 

Moreover,  the  English  astronomer  Bradley  discov¬ 
ered  an  apparent  motion  in  which  each  star  participates 
that  is  attributed  to  the  effect  of  the  earth’s  motion 
upon  the  light  rays.  This  is  too  complicated  to  explain 
here,  but  suffice  it  to  say  that  these  millions  of  move¬ 
ments  can  all  be  beautifully  understood  on  Copernicus’ 
theory,  while  on  Ptolemy’s  they  are  only  to  be  accepted 
as  brute  and  unintelligible  facts. 

Had,  then,  the  heliocentric  theory  been  proved?  In 
the  sense  in  which  astronomers  can  prove  anything,  yes. 
No  one  who  by  admitting  the  revolution  of  the  earth 
could  at  one  stroke  understand  and  predict  millions  of 
other  movements  would  refuse  to  admit  it.  Bessel’s 
and  Bradley’s  accomplishments  were  an  example  of  the 
Law  of  Parsimony  at  its  highest  development,  the  sum¬ 
ming  up  of  innumerable  hitherto  unrelated  phenomena 
in  one  simple  formula  of  explanation.  And  since  that 
time  various  other  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies 
have  been  discovered  which,  though  theoretically  ad¬ 
mitting  of  explanation  and  calculation  by  the  invention 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


57 


of  millions  of  additional  epicycles,  can  with  infinitely 
greater  ease  and  simplicity  be  shown  to  follow  from  the 
earth’s  revolution.  As  our  instruments  have  become 
more  and  more  accurate,  we  have  found  more  and  more 
ways  in  which  the  motion  of  our  earth  affects  the  ap¬ 
parent  positions  of  other  bodies. 

Can  we  hope  to  receive  confirmation  of  the  Copemi- 
can  theory  in  any  more  decisive  way?  Can  we  hope 
that  we  shal  some  day  discover  some  new  celestial  mo¬ 
tion  that  no  conceivable  complexity  of  epicycles  could 
explain?  The  mathematician  tells  us  that  we  cannot, 
for  in  calculating  astronomical  posit  ons  we  use  only  the 
algebraic  functions  of  sine  and  cosine,  and  it  can  be 
proved  mathematically  that  everything  that  can  be 
calculated  algebraically  by  the  use  of  these  terms  can 
also  be  calculated  geometrically  by  means  of  epicycles. 
Hence,  so  far  as  the  computation  of  mere  positions  goes, 
Ptolemy  could  still,  in  theory,  hold  his  own.  It  is  possi¬ 
ble  that  some  other  phenomenon  may  be  discovered  that 
will  add  independent  confirmation,  and  that  we  may  be 
able  to  demonstrate  the  revolution  of  the  earth  as  cer¬ 
tainly  as  we  can  its  rotation,  which  now  is  definitely  es¬ 
tablished  as  depending  upon  the  laws  of  motion,  and  as 
being  false  only  if  they  are  false.  Yet  we  must  not  for¬ 
get  that  so  far  at  least  the  theory  of  the  revolution  of  the 
earth  about  the  sun  is  not  a  fact,  but  an  hypothesis,  an  in¬ 
ference,  and  that  in  the  last  analysis  it  rests  solely  upon 
the  Law  of  Parsimony. 

Section  7.  The  Fruitful  Hypothesis 

There  is  still  another  most  important  reason  for  ac¬ 
cepting  the  heliocentric  hypothesis.  Where  the  geo¬ 
centric  theory  was  utterly  barren,  the  other  proved 


58 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


enormously  fruitful.  Ptolemy  could  always  manage  by 
inventing  new  epicycles  to  explain  whatever  new  celes^ 
tial  motion  might  be  discovered,  but  he  could  never  pre¬ 
dict  beforehand  that  with  more  accurate  observations 
men  would  find  those  irregularities.  His  wisdom  was 
the  wisdom  that  is  wise  after  the  event.  He  could 
absorb  the  new  knowledge  into  his  scheme,  but  he 
proved  quite  unable  to  discover  any  new  knowledge 
himself.  His  theory  gave  rise  to  no  new  suggestions  and 
hypotheses. 

The  Copernican  theory,  on  the  other  hand,  has  sug¬ 
gested  many  possibilities  which  later  have  been  experi¬ 
mentally  verified.  It  tells  us  what  we  may  expect, 
instead  of  being  profoundly  surprised  at  each  new  ob¬ 
servation.  It  leads  us  on  to  the  discovery  of  further 
knowledge.  It  is  a  signpost  pointing  out  the  road 
ahead,  instead  of  a  mere  milestone  to  mark  the  dis¬ 
tance  already  traversed.  A  single  noteworthy  example 
will  suffice  to  make  this  difference  clear. 

In  1781  the  planet  Uranus  was  discovered,  and  after 
some  observation  its  orbit  was  plotted  and  calculations 
as  to  its  future  position  made,  based  upon  the  heliocen¬ 
tric  theory  and  the  gravitational  theory  of  Newton.  By 
1820  there  were  noted  discrepancies  between  its  calcu¬ 
lated  and  its  observed  position;  by  1840  these  had  be¬ 
come  intolerable.  Some  other  element  not  included  in 
the  computation  was  affecting  Uranus’  motion.  What 
would  the  Ptolemaic  system  have  done  in  such  a  case? 
It  would  have  recognized  the  fact,  and  added  another 
epicycle  as  the  explanation.  What  did  the  astronomers 
who  adhered  to  the  Copernican  theory  do?  Assuming 
that  Uranus  was  one  of  a  number  of  planets  revolving 
about  the  sun,  they  further  assumed  that  the  discrepan- 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


59 


cies  were  due  to  the  attraction  of  another  and  unknown 
planet.  Still  working  upon  the  heliocentric  theory  and 
the  Newtonian  laws  of  motion,  Adams  and  Leverrier 
computed  the  probable  course  of  the  unknown  planet  if 
it  were  to  exert  such  force  upon  Uranus.  When  their 
figuring  was  finished,  Galle  turned  his  telescope  upon 
that  particular  spot  in  the  heavens,  and  there  he  beheld 
a  new  planet,  since  named  Neptune.  There  had  been 
made  one  of  the  most  dramatic  discoveries  in  the  history 
of  science.  What  would  the  Ptolemaic  system  have 
said  to  the  new  planet?  It  could  have  proceeded  to  fit 
it  out  with  the  requisite  epicycles,  when  once  it  had  been 
discovered,  but  it  could  in  no  wise  have  contributed 
to  that  discovery.  It  would  have  remained  unfruitful 
while  its  rival  added  directly  to  our  knowledge. 

Section  8.  The  Marks  of  a  Good  Hypothesis 

In  the  Copernican  theory  we  thus  have  a  scientific  be¬ 
lief  which,  though  not  a  fact,  in  the  sense  that  it  can  be 
directly  ascertained  by  simple  observation,  as  though 
from  a  distant  star  we  could  actually  watch  the  earth  go¬ 
ing  round  the  sun,  is  yet  as  firmly  established  as  any 
scientific  inference  can  well  be.  Any  hypothesis  in  the 
field  of  science  which  is  distinguished  from  a  rival  hy¬ 
pothesis  as  the  Copernican  is  marked  off  from  the  Ptol¬ 
emaic  theory  would  be  regarded  as  equally  certain  and 
true.  Let  us  recapitulate  those  marks. 

In  the  first  place,  the  heliocentric  theory  enables  us  to 
predict  what  will  occur  in  the  future  with  the  utmost 
nicety.  Astronomers  are  able  to  formulate  beliefs  about 
the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies  which  are  veri¬ 
fied  as  completely  as  any  in  the  physical  sciences.  Their 
planetary  hypothesis  thus  performs  the  essential  work 
of  prediction  for  which  it  was  devised. 


60 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Secondly,  the  heliocentric  theory  explains  the  move¬ 
ments  observed  among  the  stars  as  the  geocentric  theory 
does  not.  It  explains  every  cyclic  motion  that  is  com¬ 
pleted  in  a  year  as  dependent  upon  a  single  simple  factor, 
the  movement  of  the  earth.  A  theory  which  requires  a 
new  explanation  for  each  motion  can  hardly  be  said  to 
explain  anything  at  all,  for  it  does  not  succeed  in  reduc¬ 
ing  what  is  complex  to  what  is  more  simple.  Hence, 
while  Ptolemy  could  perhaps  enable  us  to  predict  the 
small  variations  in  the  positions  of  the  stars,  he  could 
never  enable  us  to  understand  them  as  all  following  from 
some  other  occurrence.  Moreover,  the  simplicity  re¬ 
sulting  from  this  economy  of  assumption  facilitates  our 
calculations.  It  also  appeals  to  the  human  mind  as  a 
precious  quality  of  intellectual  beauty ;  were  astronomy 
still  Ptolemaic,  it  would  probably  have  long  since  ceased 
to  occupy  the  place  of  the  most  elevating  of  all  the  sci¬ 
ences.  As  it  is,  its  marvelous  simplicity  furnishes  many 
with  an  aesthetic  enjoyment  unequaled  in  human  ex¬ 
perience. 

Thirdly,  the  heliocentric  theory  has  proved  to  be 
highly  suggestive,  an  opportunity  rather  than  a  com¬ 
pleted  achievement.  It  has  proved  easily  congruous 
with  other  scientific  discoveries,  notably  the  whole  of 
Newtonian  mechanics.  It  seems  to  give  us  a  real  insight 
into  the  essential  structure  of  our  planetary  system,  and 
to  be,  as  no  other  system  is,  the  key  to  unlock  its  further 
secrets.  If  nature  be  the  great  riddle,  Copernicus  seems 
to  have  come  very  close  to  part  of  the  answer.  He  has 
found  a  successful  key,  and  we  cannot  help  but  think 
it  must  be  the  true  one. 

These  are  the  marks  of  a  good  scientific  hypothesis. 
We  have  traced  the  way  in  which  such  theories  rise  and 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  HYPOTHESES 


61 


are  elaborated  and  modified  as  the  discovery  of  new 
facts,  made  possible  by  improved  means  of  observa¬ 
tions,  reveals  the  insufficiency  of  the  old  notions.  In 
the  next  chapter  we  shall  examine  more  in  detail  the  ac¬ 
tual  processes  by  which  the  scientist  formulates  an  hy¬ 
pothesis,  and  the  careful  tests  he  has  devised  for  guard¬ 
ing  against  the  possibility  of  error. 

QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  In  the  last  analysis  by  what  sort  of  observations  must  any  theory  of 
planetary  motion  be  tested? 

2.  Why  has  the  classification  of  stars  into  constellations  not  proved 
fruitful?  What  purpose  has  it  served? 

3.  Make  a  list  of  the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies  mentioned  in 
this  chapter.  Indicate  which  are  now  attributed  to  the  daily  rota¬ 
tion  of  the  earth,  and  which  to  the  annual  revolution  of  the  earth 
about  the  sun. 

4.  Upon  what  grounds  did  Ptolemy  believe  in  the  immobility  of  the 
earth?  Were  these  reasons  scientific  or  merely  fanciful? 

5.  Precisely  what  questions  was  Ptolemy  trying  to  answer  by  his  sys¬ 
tem?  Did  he  regard  astronomy  as  primarily  a  branch  of  mathe¬ 
matics  or  of  physics? 

6.  Why  was  Aristotle’s  system  fanciful  while  Ptolemy’s  was  scientific? 

7.  Why  did  the  Syrian  bishop  make  an  improper  use  of  authority, 
when  we  consider  ourselves  justified  in  accepting  the  Copernican 
theory  from  the  astronomers  without  being  able  to  prove  it  our¬ 
selves? 

8.  Outline  the  stages  in  the  thought  of  Copernicus  in  deciding  for  his 
heliocentric  hypothesis. 

9.  What  is  the  basic  principle  of  the  geocentric  theory  by  means  of 
which  it  can  be  elaborated  to  account  for  all  the  celestial  motions? 
Contrast  this  with  the  basic  principle  of  the  heliocentric  system. 

10.  What  tests  did  Copernicus’  theory  have  to  meet  before  it  could  be 
regarded  as  definitely  established? 

11.  In  just  what  way  is  Copernicus’  theory  simpler  than  Ptolemy’s? 

12.  Of  what  value  is  simplicity  as  a  criterion  of  a  good  hypothesis?  Un¬ 
der  what  conditions  may  it  be  employed?  Can  you  suggest  any 
dangers  in  its  use?  Give  an  example. 

13.  In  verifying  the  heliocentric  theory,  what  use  was  made  of  the  tool 
of  mathematics?  What  part  did  the  invention  of  more  accurate 
instruments  of  observation  play? 

14.  Make  a  list  of  the  several  superiorities  of  the  Copernican  and  the 
Ptolemaic  hypothesis.  Take  some  other  scientific  hypothesis  and 
show  how  it  fulfills  all  these  conditions. 


62 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


15.  Outline  the  stages  of  the  process  of  thinking  by  which  Adams  and 
Leverrier  discovered  Neptune.  Why  could  Neptune  not  have  been 
so  discovered  had  they  worked  on  the  Ptolemaic  hypothesis?  What 
further  knowledge  was  necessary? 

16.  In  what  sense  has  the  Ptolemaic  hypothesis  never  been  absolutely 
disproved?  What  would  be  necessary  to  do  so? 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Historical: 

J.  L.  E.  Dreyer,  Planetary  Systems.  Cambridge  University  Press, 
1906. 

A.  Berry,  Short  History  of  Astronomy.  Charles  Scribner’s  Sons,  1910. 
It.  F.  Moulton,  Introduction  to  Astronomy.  The  Macmillan  Com¬ 
pany,  1906. 

D.  P.  Todd,  New  Astronomy.  American  Book  Company,  1897. 

H.  Jacoby,  Astronomy.  The  Macmillan  Company,  1915. 

For  general  position  taken,  see  Mach,  Science  of  Mechanics,  page  232. 
Open  Court,  1892. 

On  Hypothesis:  See  logic  textbooks  mentioned  in  Bibliography  to  Chap¬ 
ter  II. 


/ 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  METHODS  OF  EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE:  THE 
DISCOVERY  OF  CAUSAL  RELATIONS  IN  BIOLOGY 

Section  1.  The  Significance  of  Causal  Relations 

1 1  Happy  is  the  man  who  knows  the  causes  of  things/' 
says  the  poet,  and  it  is  precisely  this  understanding 
which  has  seemed  to  many  to  be  the  fulfillment  of  all  in¬ 
tellectual  endeavor.  To  know  the  causes  of  things  and 
their  effects  is  to  gain  a  sense  of  security  in  the  fuller 
comprehension  of  past  events,  and  the  power  of  envisag¬ 
ing  and  perhaps  guiding  them  in  the  future. 

We  have  seen  how  the  scientist  in  the  field  of  medi¬ 
cine  gains  an  understanding  of  his  subject  by  observing 
certain  fundamental  similarities  in  the  cases  which  he  is 
called  upon  to  treat,  and  how  the  astronomer  advances 
by  considering  the  relation  of  numerous  celestial  changes 
to  some  significant  occurrence  in  the  heavens.  But  it 
was  clear  that  the  purpose  of  the  physician  and  the  as¬ 
tronomer  is  not  merely  to  observe  symptoms  and  events, 
or  even  to  relate  them  to  other  happenings  by  pointing 
out  resemblances  or  temporal  sequences. 

For  when  we  speak  of  diagnosis  and  of  the  construc¬ 
tion  of  an  hypothesis,  we  are  really  concerned  with  what 
caused  the  appearance  of  certain  symptoms  and  what 
effect  a  definite  remedy  will  have,  or  we  inquire  into 
the  cause  of  a  comet’s  path  and  the  effects  of  the  sun’s 
position.  If  we  know  the  answers  to  questions  such  as 
these,  we  have  truly  penetrated  deep  into  the  mysteries 
of  nature.  When  we  realize  what  is  meant  by  these 


64 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


terms  “cause”  and  “effect,”  we  shall  see  why  the  dis¬ 
covery  of  causal  relationships  in  different  fields  of  knowl¬ 
edge  is  so  important  a  step  in  scientific  progress. 

The  usefulness  of  this  discovery  is  apparent  in  the  proc¬ 
ess  of  verification  which  we  noted  as  being  an  important 
step  in  our  analysis  of  a  typical  act  of  reflective  think¬ 
ing.  It  is  in  this  connection  especially  that  we  shall 
study  the  meaning  of  scientific  experimentation.  We 
shall  have  occasion  to  notice  that  experimentation  is 
not,  what  it  so  frequently  seems  to  the  uninitiated  to  be — 
fooling  in  a  more  or  less  haphazard  way  with  a  variety 
of  materials;  but  that  it  is,  commonly,  the  method  by 
which  the  scientist  tests  the  validity  of  an  hypothesis 
formulated  in  accordance  with  the  principles  studied  in 
the  last  chapter.  Having  been  led  by  observation  and 
analysis  to  the  tentative  opinion  that  certain  facts  or 
events  are  the  results  of  other  facts  or  events,  he  sets  to 
work  to  test  this  opinion.  In  doing  this  he  relies,  as  has 
been  said,  chiefly  on  the  above-mentioned  conceptions 
of  “  cause”  and  “effect.” 

Though  these  conceptions  are  useful  in  all  fields,  it  is 
perhaps  evident  that  they  are  more  readily  applied  in 
some  than  in  others.  You  can  more  easily  explain  the 
cause  of  a  severe  headache  than  the  cause  of  your  affec¬ 
tion  for  a  dear  friend.  It  is  simpler  to  discover  the 
cause  of  the  failure  of  your  vegetable  garden  to  yield  all 
that  you  had  hoped  for  than  to  find  the  cause  of  wide¬ 
spread  business  depression.  Just  what  we  mean  when 
we  say  that  the  cause  of  the  headache  was  that  extra  cup 
of  coffee,  or  that  the  garden’s  failure  was  the  effect  of  in¬ 
sufficient  rain,  we  shall  have  an  opportunity  to  inquire 
later  on.  For  the  present,  however,  let  us  note  that  the 
establishment  of  causal  relationships  is  easier  in  some 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


65 


cases  than  in  others.  Superficially  it  may  appear,  and 
it  has  often  been  said,  that  it  depends  to  a  great  extent 
on  the  degree  of  complexity  of  the  objects  whose  rela¬ 
tionship  we  happen  to  be  studying.  There  is  some  basis 
for  this  explanation,  however  partial  it  be;  though  one 
may  question  whether  to  some  extent  those  things 
which  we  understand  do  not  therefore  seem  simple, 
whereas  those  which  we  fail  to  comprehend  seem  com¬ 
plex.  In  any  case  we  are  forced  to  realize  that  we  do 
know  more  about  the  causes  of  electricity  than  about 
the  causes  of  life,  that  the  effects  of  sulphuric  acid  on 
zinc  are  better  understood  than  are  the  effects  of  fright 
on  an  immature  mind. 

However  complex  or  simple  these  several  relationships 
may  be,  our  greater  knowledge  of  some  than  of  others  un¬ 
doubtedly  depends  to  a  very  large  extent  on  our  ability 
to  demonstrate  and  test  out  our  judgments  about  these 
relationships.  When  we  can  provide  for  the  repetition 
of  an  event,  such  as  the  reaction  of  zinc  to  an  acid,  under 
controlled  conditions,  we  can  gain  a  greater  understand¬ 
ing  of  what  is  taking  place  than  when  our  powers  of  ob¬ 
servation  are  restricted  as  in  the  case  of  psychological  in¬ 
fluences.  By  means  of  experimental  investigation,  our 
preliminary  observations,  even  in  very  complex  fields* 
are  improved  and  corrected,  and,  as  we  perfect  our 
methods  of  studying  these  subjects,  we  may  reasonably 
hope  to  learn  more  about  them,  even  about  such  com¬ 
plex  subjects  as  the  nature  of  life  and  the  factors  in  men¬ 
tal  development.  The  advance  in  various  sciences  has 
depended  largely  on  the  discovery  of  more  applicable 
methods  of  experimentation  whereby  various  theories 
might  be  tested  and  further  facts  secured  for  their  subse¬ 
quent  elaboration. 


66 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


In  the  following  sections  we  shall  trace  the  history  of 
the  biologist's  efforts  to  understand  certain  events; 
namely,  the  processes  by  which  the  individuals  of  va¬ 
rious  species  are  generated.  Are  they  all  brought  into 
the  world  by  well-definable  methods  of  reproduction,  as 
the  offspring  of  creatures  similar  to  themselves?  Or  are 
they  the  unaccountable,  spontaneous  products  of  a  form 
of  nature  fundamentally  different  from  themselves? 
Questions  such  as  these  long  puzzled  the  biologist. 
How  were  they  to  be  answered? 

Section  2 .  “ Spontaneous  Generation”  as  the  Origin  of 

Life 

The  natural  scientist  has  always  recognized  that  in 
most  instances  organisms  are  propagated  by  parents 
similar  to  the  offspring.  Another  mode  of  generation, 
however,  was  formerly  widely  believed  in.  “  Hetero- 
genesis,"  the  creation  of  a  living  organism  out  of  inor¬ 
ganic  matter,  was  generally  accepted  as  another  method. 
Animals  as  high  in  the  scale  of  life  as  the  frog  were 
thought  of  as  being  in  some  cases  the  product  of  spon¬ 
taneous  generation.  Eels  were  said  to  have  come  into 
being  suddenly  from  the  slimy  ooze  of  the  river  Nile,  and 
caterpillars  and  many  insects  were  supposed  to  be  the 
spontaneous  product  of  the  leaves  on  which  they  fed. 
A  formula  for  creating  mice  was  even  suggested;  and  it 
was  shown  that  they  could  be  procured  by  putting 
grains  of  wheat  with  some  dirty  linen  in  a  receptacle, 
whereupon  the  mice  would  presently  appear.  Decay¬ 
ing  meat  was  regarded  especially  as  a  source  of  sponta¬ 
neous  generation  of  living  matter.  Worms  and  maggots 
were  supposed  to  find  their  origin  in  putrefying  flesh. 

An  Italian,  Francesco  Redi,  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


67 


tury,  disproved  the  truth  of  this  last  example.  He 
placed  the  meat  in  a  receptacle  over  which  he  fastened  a 
paper  cover.  The  meat  yielded  no  products.  Chang¬ 
ing  the  cover,  he  put  gauze  over  the  meat  through  which 
the  odor  of  the  flesh  could  rise.  Flies  were  attracted  to 
it,  laid  their  eggs  on  the  gauze,  and  these  developed 
upon  it  instead  of  on  the  meat.  By  such  simple  ex¬ 
periments  as  this  the  theory  of  spontaneous  genera¬ 
tion  gradually  lost  ground  and  might  well  have  been 
vanquished  altogether  but  for  the  invention  of  the 
microscope. 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  not  without  parallel  in  other  cases, 
that  the  development  of  this  instrument  led  temporarily 
to  the  revival  of  an  erroneous  theory.  The  microscope, 
which  has  in  so  many  directions  advanced  our  under¬ 
standing  of  the  world  of  nature,  was  the  immediate 
cause  of  the  revival  of  the  theory  of  heterogenesis,  for  by 
its  aid  there  were  discovered  innumerable  tiny  organ¬ 
isms  invisible  to  the  naked  eye,  but  which  lived  and  had 
their  being  and  could  now  be  observed.  These  micro¬ 
organisms,  it  was  said,  came  spontaneously  into  being  in 
any  liquid,  however  free  it  had  been  from  these  infu¬ 
sions  previously.  For  this  reason  these  organisms  were 
given  the  name  of  “  Infusoria. ”  The  liquids  in  which 
these  animalcuise  were  generated  were  spoken  of  as 
“putrescible.” 

Many  experiments  were  performed  by  the  defenders  of 
the  theory  of  spontaneous  generation  to  show  that  pre¬ 
viously  sterile  water  generated  life  in  this  way  and  pos¬ 
sessed  “  vegetative  force.”  The  question  was  the  sub¬ 
ject  of  endless  debate  and  much  abstract  speculation. 
The  doctrine  of  spontaneous  generation,  mysterious 
though  it  was,  appealed  to  simplicity-loving  minds,  and 


i 


68 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


the  opposing  views  found  it  well-nigh  impossible  to 
substitute  a  convincing  explanation.  Moreover,  the 
heterogenists  pointed  with  assurance  to  innumerable 
“men  of  genius”  from  Aristotle  down  who  had  accepted 
their  opinion.  They  regarded  as  ridiculous  and  fantas¬ 
tic  any  effort  to  discover  how  the  swarm  of  minute  crea¬ 
tures  disclosed  by  the  microscope  could  have  entered  the 
medium  in  which  they  were  found.  And  they  spoke  with 
such  assurance  and  conviction,  and  with  such  an  array 
of  erudition,  that  they  seemed  to  carry  the  day  by  sheer 
enthusiasm.  An  earlier  defender  of  the  theory  had 
written  that  “to  question  this  view  is  to  question  rea¬ 
son,  sense  and  experience”;  and  the  new  converts  to  the 
doctrine  failed  to  realize  that  that  is  precisely  what  wis¬ 
dom  demands  that  we  should  do.  Many  ingenious  sys¬ 
tems,  such  as  that  of  Buffon,  were  set  forth,  and  new 
and  elaborate  terminologies  were  invented  to  describe 
the  phenomena:  a  frequent  but  a  poor  way  to  explain 
things. 

What  was  most  needful  was  a  mind  which  would 
frankly  face  the  problem,  locate  the  difficulty,  and  sug¬ 
gest  some  natural  hypothesis  susceptible  of  proof  or 
disproof.  What  conditions  are  necessary  before  these 
living  beings  can  appear?  That  question  had  to  be 
answered.  But  the  opposing  theorists  failed  to  suggest 
any  method  of  testing  their  conclusions.  Indeed,  every 
one  seemed  to  secure  the  very  results  which  he  had  an¬ 
ticipated  and  desired.  And  when  an  opponent  offered 
contrary  testimony,  his  “error”  could  readily  be  as¬ 
signed  to  special  causes  of  which  he  had  failed  to  take 
account. 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


69 


Section  3.  Pasteur’s  Investigations  into  the  Origin  of 

Living  Beings 

It  remained  for  a  patient  and  open-minded  investiga¬ 
tor  to  make  a  fresh  start,  to  state  his  problem  as  simply 
as  possible,  to  consider  the  implications  of  his  statement, 
and  to  examine  each  of  these  in  order  to  see  which  were 
relevant  to  the  question  and  which  were  not.  It  was  the 
great  French  biologist,  Louis  Pasteur,  who  in  1860  set 
about  this  laborious  task.  Not  neglecting  the  testimony 
of  the  past,  but  refusing  to  accept  without  scrutiny  the 
opinions  even  of  “men  of  genius,”  he  was  not  afraid  to 
consider  any  theory,  however  “ridiculous  or  fantastic” 
it  might  at  first  appear.  Above  all  he  conscientiously 
avoided  jumping  to  conclusions;  for  whereas,  as  he  him¬ 
self  stated,  it  was  impossible  not  to  lean  to  some  theory, 
he  endeavored  to  hold  it  in  suspended  judgment  and, 
“while  marching  forward  to  establish  some  new  facts, 
sought  arguments  against  himself  and  turned  back  to 
strengthen  points  which  seemed  yet  weak.”1 

“Can  matter  organize  itself?  Can  living  beings  come 
into  the  world  without  having  been  preceded  by  beings 
similar  to  them?”  Thus  he  stated  his  problem.  Lo¬ 
cating  the  question  more  definitely,  he  asked  himself 
whence  the  minute  organisms  which  the  microscope  dis¬ 
closed  in  previously  sterile  liquids  had  come.  Can  these 
have  come  in  from  the  air,  and  if  so  can  they  be  there 
discovered?  If  such  germs  exist  in  the  atmosphere,  it 
should  be  possible  to  gather  them  from  it,  and  to  this 
attempt  Pasteur  first  addressed  himself.  By  drawing  a 
current  of  air  through  a  cotton  filter,  he  found  deposited 
on  the  latter  germs  and  spores  like  those  under  consid- 
1  Vallery-Radot,  Life  of  Pasteur ,  p.  99. 


70 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


t 


eration.  Had  he  then  proved  his  point?  No,  for  the 
cotton  was  itself  an  organic  substance,  and  might  there¬ 
fore  have  given  rise  to  these  organic  particles.  Pasteur 
substituted  a  mineral  filter,  asbestos,  for  the  cotton,  and 
again  an  air  current  left  its  deposit! 

But  the  heterogenists  were  ready  with  another  ob¬ 
jection.  If  these  germs  exist  in  the  air,  they  asked,  why 
is  the  atmosphere  not  clouded  with  them,  or  are  they, 
perchance,  unevenly  distributed,  being  thick  at  one 
point  and  rare  at  another?  Such  an  arrangement 
seemed  utterly  ridiculous.  But  while  they  laughed, 
Pasteur  set  about  his  investigations,  using  specimens  of 
air  in  different  places  to  discover  whether  their  effects 
were  indeed  uniform  or  different.  In  the  streets  of  Paris, 
in  his  cellar  laboratory,  in  country  fields,  and  on  Alpine 
glaciers  Pasteur  performed  his  tests.  The  results  varied 
greatly,  and  upon  completing  these  investigations  he 
was  led  to  formulate  his  belief  that  “the  dusts  sus¬ 
pended  in  atmospheric  air  are  the  exclusive  origin,  the 
necessary  condition  of  life  in  infusions.” 

How  could  Pasteur  justify  so  daring  4n  hypothesis? 
Up  to  this  point  he  had,  as  we  have  seen,  merely  discov¬ 
ered  that  the  germs  which  he  was  studying  could  be 
found  in  the  atmosphere,  and  this  in  varying  degree. 
But,  granting  that  the  air  contained  germs,  could  it  be 
shown  that  these  invariably  came  from  the  air?  Pred¬ 
ecessors  of  Pasteur  had  attempted  to  boil  “putresci- 
ble”  liquids  in  closed  tubes,  and  had  thus  succeeded  in 
destroying  the  living  organisms  which  they  contained. 
But  their  opponents  insisted  that  the  excessive  heat  had 
also  changed  the  “vegetative  force”  of  the  fluids.  How 
could  Pastern:  demonstrate  that  the  air  was  the  cause 
of  the  appearance  of  life  in  previously  sterilized  water 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


71 


without  apparently  impairing  the  liquid  and  thus  intro¬ 
ducing  a  new  and  perplexing  problem? 

He  did  it  by  taking  liquids  sterilized  in  each  case  by 
the  same  method  and  showing  that  organic  life  ap¬ 
peared  in  certain  flasks  and  not  in  others.  Here  is  his 
own  description  of  the  experiment: 

I  place  a  portion  of  the  infusion  into  a  flask  with  a  long 
neck.  .  .  .  Suppose  I  boil  the  liquid  and  leave  it  to  cool.  After 
a  few  days  mouldiness  or  animalcule  will  develop  in  the  liq¬ 
uid.  By  boiling  I  destroyed  any  germs  in  the  liquid  or 
against  the  glass;  but  that  infusion  being  again  in  contact 
with  air,  it  becomes  altered  as  all  infusions  do.  Now  suppose 
I  repeat  this  experiment,  but  that  before  boiling  the  liquid  I 
draw  the  neck  of  the  flask  into  a  point,  leaving,  however,  its 
extremity  open.  ...  Now  the  liquid  of  this  second  flask  will 
remain  pure.  .  .  .  What  difference  is  there  between  these  two 
vases?  .  .  .  The  only  difference  between  them  is  this:  in  the 
first  case  the  dusts  suspended  in  air  and  their  germs  can  fall 
into  the  neck  of  the  flask  and  come  into  contact  with  the  liq¬ 
uid,  where  they  find  appropriate  food  and  develop.  Thence 
microscopic  beings.  In  the  second  flask,  on  the  contrary,  it  is 
impossible,  or  at  least  extremely  difficult,  unless  air  is  vio¬ 
lently  shaken,  that  dusts  suspended  in  air  should  enter  the 
vase.  They  fall  on  its  curved  neck. 

This  experiment  is  full  of  instruction.  For  this  must  be  no¬ 
ticed,  that  everything  in  air  save  its  dusts  can  easily  enter  the 
vase  and  come  in  contact  with  the  liquid.  .  .  .  Only  one  thing 
cannot  enter  easily,  and  that  is  dusts  suspended  in  air.  And 
the  proof  of  this  is,  that  if  I  shake  the  vase  violently  two  or 
three  times  in  a  few  days  it  contains  animalcule  or  mouldi¬ 
ness.  Why?  Because  air  has  come  in  violently  enough  to 
carry  dust  with  it. 

Could  the  heterogenists  maintain  that  some  of  this  liq¬ 
uid  had  “vegetative  force ”  which  had  been  destroyed 
in  the  other  flasks?  Clearly  not,  for  the  liquid  was  iden¬ 
tical  in  all  cases.  The  only  varjdng  factor  was  the  dust- 


72 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


laden  air  which  was  introduced  in  some  and  kept  out  of 
others,  the  former  of  which  produced  organic  beings, 
while  the  latter  remained  sterile. 

We  have  here  the  secret  of  Pasteur’s  method.  He 
carefully  controlled  his  conditions  so  that  each  factor 
could  be  considered.  If  the  only  changed  condition 
was  the  change  of  atmosphere,  then  that  change  was,  be¬ 
yond  peradventure,  to  be  regarded  as  the  cause  of  the 
varying  results.  Moreover,  as  this  precondition  varied, 
the  consequences  varied  similarly.  The  clear  light  of 
analysis  had  been  thrown  on  the  situation,  and  had  re¬ 
vealed  the  origin  of  the  living  organisms. 

It  may  be  noted  that  this  discovery  of  Pasteur’s 
yielded  far-reaching  and  significant  results.  His  own 
work  was  to  apply  his  new  knowledge  to  the  study  of 
ferments,  and  these  also  he  showed  to  be  living  beings, 
not  yielded  spontaneously  as  a  matter  of  accident,  but 
the  product  of  entirely  natural  and  controllable  proc¬ 
esses.  The  tremendous  progress  in  the  investigation  of 
disease  which  the  last  half-century  has  witnessed  fol¬ 
lowed  this  work,  with  the  isolation  of  specific  germs  and 
the  consequent  discovery  of  remedies.  In  two  instances, 
anthrax  and  smallpox,  Pasteur  himself  was  the  path¬ 
finder,  but  other  scientists  of  all  nations  followed  his 
lead.  The  marvelous  advance  in  surgery  and  in  meth¬ 
ods  of  sterilization  associated  with  the  name  of  Lord 
Lister,  all  owe  their  inspiration  to  this  beginning. 

What  had  Pasteur  proved?  Before  we  go  on  to  re¬ 
view  in  greater  detail  the  processes  by  which  he  reached 
his  conclusions,  it  is  important  to  stop  and  consider  pre¬ 
cisely  what  the  results  of  his  tests  were.  All  too  fre¬ 
quently  at  the  conclusion  of  an  argument  it  is  by  no 
means  clear  what  has  been  proven.  All  too  often  the  re- 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


73 


suits  of  even  a  valid  proof  are  vitiated  by  attempting  to 
make  it  signify  more  than  it  really  does.  You  prove  that 
a  man  is  thoroughly  honest,  which  fact,  if  his  good  name 
has  been  questioned,  may  be  a  very  important  thing  to 
do,  and  you  thereupon  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  he 
would  make  an  excellent  club  treasurer,  which  requires 
other  qualifications  in  addition  to  honesty.  Or  you  in¬ 
sist  that  you  have  symptoms  of  typhoid  fever,  which 
should,  of  course,  require  careful  treatment  and  examina¬ 
tion,  and  you  argue  that  it  is  therefore  quite  proper  for 
you  to  be  with  your  favorite  brother  who  has  the  disease, 
since  exposure  will  no  longer  endanger  you. 

It  is  therefore  desirable  for  us  to  ask :  What  had  Pas¬ 
teur  proved?  Had  he  proved  that  all  life  is  the  effect  of 
previous  life,  that  “biogenesis”  is  universal  and  always 
has  been?  This  view  is  held  by  numerous  scientists,  who 
either  take  an  agnostic  position  as  to  the  ultimate  ori¬ 
gin  of  life  on  earth,  or  hold  that  living  organisms  were 
“created”  at  the  same  time  as  the  inorganic  world,  or 
suggest  that  living  cells  drifted  to  the  earth  on  “solar 
dust”  from  some  other  world  where  life  existed  pre¬ 
viously.  But  whichever  of  these  views  be  valid  or  false, 
Pasteur’s  investigations  do  not  prove  their  truth  or  their 
falsity.  Nor  did  he  prove  that  life  was  always  the  re¬ 
sult  of  earlier  life  —  though  he  did  show  that  this  was 
the  case  in  those  many  instances  where  his  opponents 
had  advanced  the  occult  explanation  of  “spontaneous 
generation.”  He  did  not  even  demonstrate  that  organ¬ 
isms  could  not  be  produced  synthetically  from  inorganic 
substances,  or  that  this  process  was  not  taking  place 
continually  on  this  planet  under  favorable  conditions. 
These  questions  remain  to  be  answered.  But  Pasteur 
did  prove  beyond  peradventure  that  the  living  micro- 


■74 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


organisms  which  he  was  studying,  like  other  organisms 
with  which  we  are  familiar,  had  definite  life  histories, 
specific  modes  of  generation ;  that  their  presence  was  not 
due  to  unforeseeable,  uncontrollable,  mysterious  proc¬ 
esses,  but  that  they  were  the  offspring  of  parents  simi¬ 
lar  to  themselves  which  floated  on  the  dusts  of  the  air 
and  were  thus  introduced  into  previously  sterile  liquids. 
We  have  seen  how  this  discovery  made  possible  an  un¬ 
derstanding  of  the  processes  on  which  the  appearance  of 
these  bacteria  and  similar  organisms  depend,  and  their 
increased  control  and  uses.  But,  of  course,  though  we 
speak  of  Pasteur’s  proof  of  the  nature  and  activity  of 
these  creatures,  he  had  really  only  demonstrated  certain 
facts  concerning  particular  individual  representatives  of 
this  type.  What  justified  him  in  assuming  that  they 
were  truly  representative,  and  in  proceeding  from  the 
facts  which  he  had  observed  to  the  generalized  statement 
which  made  these  facts  significant? 

Section  If. .  The  Experimental  Methods 

It  is  this  process  whereby  the  investigator  is  enabled 
to  go  from  the  restricted  individual  case  which  he  has 
studied  to  a  generalized  conclusion  concerning  all  such 
cases,  which  we  must  now  consider  in  detail.  This 
transition  from  particular  facts  to  a  general  knowledge 
about  these  facts  is  known  as  the  “  process  of  induc¬ 
tion.”  It  is,  of  course,  involved  in  other  stages  of  re¬ 
flection  which  we  have  studied  in  earlier  chapters.  It 
assists  the  diagnostician  in  determining  what  facts  it  is 
important  for  him  to  observe  and  in  classifying  those 
facts.  The  tremendous  advance  from  collected  data  to 
an  hypothesis  about  these  facts  has  itself  sometimes 
been  referred  to  as  the  “  inductive  leap,”  and  it  is  indeed 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


75 


an  enormous  “jump.”  And  again,  as  we  have  seen  in 
the  case  of  Pasteur,  the  experimental  scientist  endeav¬ 
ors  to  perform  certain  tests  which  will  lead  him  to  verify 
his  hypothesis  by  linking  it  close  to  the  facts  which 
he  wishes  to  comprehend.  Thus  the  whole  system  of 
reflective  thinking  is  an  almost  continuous  process  for¬ 
ward  and  back  from  the  facts  to  be  explained  to  the  hy¬ 
pothesis  or  theory  which  embraces  them.  In  this  way 
the  mind  of  an  intelligent  man  is  forever  turning  from 
the  things  which  he  observes  to  a  fuller  understanding 
of  these  things,  from  his  theory  back  to  the  facts  which 
are  illuminated  and  clarified  thereby.  In  studying 
these  processes  of  reciprocal  reference  from  hypothesis 
to  experience  and  from  experience  to  a  more  adequately 
established  theory,  we  will  consider  the  widely  used 
methods  of  experimental  science. 

What,  then,  is  the  significance  of  those  methods  so 
fruitfully  employed  by  the  experimental  scientist? 
How  can  he  safely  go  from  his  observations  to  his  gen¬ 
eralizations?  How  could  Pasteur,  on  the  basis  of  a  few 
selected  experiments,  say  that  these  proved  that  micro¬ 
organisms  did  not  appear  in  “  putrescible  ”  liquids  as  an 
effect  of  the  “vegetative  force”  of  these  liquids,  but  that 
their  appearance  was  caused  by  the  introduction  and 
propagation  of  germs  carried  as  floating  matter  in  the 
air? 

Let  us  see  first  what  determines  the  selection  of  cer¬ 
tain  experiments  as  being  crucial  and  convincing.  A 
plausible  hypothesis  has  arisen  in  the  mind  of  the  inves¬ 
tigator:  what  experiments  shall  he  perform  to  test  it? 
Clearly  he  will  not  manipulate  his  materials  at  random, 
he  will  not  use  the  primitive,  “monkeying,”  method  of 
trial  and  error.  He  will  rather  consider  just  what  will 


i 


70 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


prove  or  disprove  his  hypothesis.  “If  I  am  right," 
Pasteur  in  effect  said  to  himself,  “then,  whenever  the 
germ-bearing  atmospheric  dusts  are  present,  micro¬ 
organisms  will  propagate  in  these  liquids;  whenever 
they  are  not  present,  the  liquids  will  remain  sterile.  I 
must  try  it  out  to  see  if  this  is  the  case.” 

What  is  needed  in  all  such  cases  is  a  full  analysis  of  the 
circumstances  under  consideration.  The  investigator 
requires  an  exhaustive  list  of  all  the  factors  which  may 
possibly  be  determining  the  processes  which  he  is  study¬ 
ing.  How  inclusive  this  list  must  be  in  order  to  be  re¬ 
garded  as  genuinely  exhaustive  of  all  the  possibilities,  it 
is  difficult  to  say.  Much  will  inevitably  depend  on  the 
skill  of  the  investigator  and  on  the  obscurity  of  the 
events  which  he  is  analyzing.  The  hope  held  forth  by 
Bacon  in  his  Novum  Organum  of  a  “fool-proof”  method 
which  would  “leave  little  to  the  acuteness  and  strength 
of  wit”  of  the  investigator  seems  to  overlook  the  fact 
that  in  the  enumeration  of  factors  to  be  considered  the 
training  and  insight  of  the  scientist  are  of  the  greatest 
importance.  It  is  evident  that  a  really  complete  enu¬ 
meration  of  all  the  circumstances  involved  would  be 
beyond  attainment.  Indeed  when  we  stop  to  consider 
that  the  purpose  of  such  an  enumeration  is  to  make  pos¬ 
sible  the  testing  of  these  various  factors  and  the  elim¬ 
ination  of  those  which  are  definitely  not  operative,  we 
see  that  a  list,  unnecessarily  long,  would  by  no  means  be 
desirable.  The  methods  which  we  are  about  to  study 
serve  to  suggest  what  factors  may  be  regarded  as  espe¬ 
cially  significant,  and,  when  the  situation  has  been  sub¬ 
jected  to  this  analysis,  to  make  possible  the  elimination 
of  those  which  in  all  probability  are  not  the  cause  or 
causes  sought. 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


77 


This  analysis  is  the  basis  of  all  experimentation:  if 
this  fact  a  is  really  the  cause  of  this  event  b ,  then  we  must 
try  to  see  if  whenever  a  occurs  b  inevitably  also  occurs, 
and  if  whenever  a  is  absent  b  fails  to  occur.  It  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that,  whereas  a  and  b  are  simple  symbols, 
the  events  which  they  signify  are  complex  and  involved. 
Thus  it  is  by  no  means  an  easy  thing  to  discern  the 
cause  a .  What  we  see  is  rather  a  total  situation  a,  of 
which  some  aspect  or  part,  cq,  a2,  a3, . .  .  may  be  the  sig¬ 
nificant  factor.  It  is  therefore  essential  that  our  enu¬ 
meration  of  these  parts  be  adequate  so  as  to  include  the 
relevant  factor  a  in  the  total  situation.  The  methods 
which  are  to  be  discussed  aim  to  identify  this  factor.  An 
extended  analysis  of  this  basis  of  the  methodology  of 
experiment  has  been  made  by  the  British  philosopher, 
John  Stuart  Mill,  and  we  shall  follow  his  classic  discus¬ 
sion.1  He  distinguishes  five  methods  which  he  found  in 
actual  use  among  men  of  science,  and  summarizes  them 
in  five  famous  “  Canons.  ”  2 

1  J.  S.  Mill,  System  of  Logic,  Book  3. 

2  A  familiar  device  by  which  to  illustrate  symbolically  the  use  of  the 
various  experimental  methods  is  seen  in  the  following  scheme: 

If  a  set  of  circumstances  a,  b,  c,  d  is  followed  by  the  result  R,  and  an¬ 
other  set  of  circumstances  a,  x,  y,  z  is  followed  by  the  result  R,  then  the 
circumstance  a  is  causally  related  to  the  result  R.  This  represents  the 
Method  of  Agreement. 

Similarly,  if  a,  b,  c,  d,  e} . R 

and  a,  c,  d,  e,  . 

then  the  circumstance  b  is  causally  related  to  the  result  R. 

(Method  of  Difference.) 

Likewise,  if  a,  b,  c,  d, . R 

and  a,  m,  n,  d, . R 

a,  P,Q,d, . R 

a,  x.  y,  d, . R 

then  both  a  and  d  seem  to  be  related  to  R. 

But  if  a,  e,  f,  g, . 

h,  i,  j,  k, . . 

o,  t,  s,  t . . . 

then  not  a  but  d  is  causally  related  to  R.  (Joint  Method.) 


78 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


1.  The  Canon  of  the  Method  of  Agreement  is  stated 
by  Mill  in  this  way:  If  two  or  more  instances  of  the  phe¬ 
nomenon  under  investigation  have  only  one  circumstance 
in  common ,  the  circumstance  in  which  alone  all  the  in¬ 
stances  agree  is  the  cause  of  the  given  phenomenon.  This 
has  been  more  simply,  though  negatively,  stated  by  a 
recent  writer,1  who  says  that  “Nothing  is  the  cause  of  a 
phenomenon  in  the  absence  of  which  it  nevertheless  oc¬ 
curs.’ ;  Let  us,  in  order  to  understand  the  uses  and  im¬ 
plications  of  this  method,  see  how  it  was  applied  in 
Pasteur’s  work. 

When  his  opponents  objected  that  the  filter  used  by 
Pasteur  was  itself  an  “organic”  substance,  and  might 
therefore  produce  the  micro-organisms,  he  simply 
changed  the  nature  of  filter  substance,  using  the  min¬ 
eral  asbestos.  The  point  of  this  change  was,  of  course, 
that  the  material  used  for  the  filter  was  irrelevant  and 
was  not  the  cause  of  the  germs  which  appeared  on  it, 
but  that  the  atmospheric  dusts  which  were  caught  by 
either  filter  were  the  cause.  Again,  in  the  subsequent 
experiments  Pasteur  held  that  if  the  germs  were  pro¬ 
duced  when  the  dust-laden  air  was  brought  in  contact 
with  the  liquids,  and  if  no  other  factors  were  common 
to  all  cases,  the  air  or  some  factor  connected  with  the 
air  would  be  shown  to  be  the  cause  of  the  appearance 
of  the  living  beings. 

We  must  recognize  that  the  strict  requirements  of  this 
method  were  not,  and  really  could  not  be,  observed  in 
either  of  these  instances.  Many  other  factors  were  com¬ 
mon  to  all  tests  in  addition  to  the  condition  of  the  air. 
In  a  sense  it  may,  indeed,  be  questioned  whether  this 
method  can  ever  be  employed  with  absolute  precision. 

1  H.  W.  B.  Joseph,  Introduction  to  Logic ,  p.  403. 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


79 


For  will  not  some  feature  remain  common  to  any  test, 
some  feature  which  just  because  it  is  so  common  es¬ 
capes  attention  and  is  nevertheless  of  great  importance? 
For  example,  the  effects  of  gravitation  are  constantly 
present,  and  the  success  of  numerous  investigations  has 
been  seriously  impaired  by  the  failure  to  take  this  into 
account  as  a  common  factor  in  the  several  instances. 
However,  though  we  must  remember  these  deficiencies 
in  the  application  of  the  method  of  agreement,  its  prac¬ 
tical  usefulness  in  suggesting  a  solution  when  the  com¬ 
mon  factor  is  somewhat  unusual  and  in  the  elimination 
of  supposed  “causes”  (the  cotton  filter,  for  instance)  is 
very  great.  Whereas  it  cannot  prove  what  is  the  cause 
of  a  phenomenon,  it  can  be  used  to  show  that  certain 
assumed  “causes”  are  not  genuinely  so.  Other  diffi¬ 
culties  which  the  method  of  agreement  shares,  more  or 
less,  with  the  other  experimental  methods  will  be  noted 
below. 

2.  The  second  method,  called  by  Mill  the  “Method  of 
Difference,”  is  rather  more  readily  applicable  to  the 
laboratory  conditions  of  experimental  investigation. 
Mill  phrased  the  canon  of  this  method  thus:  If  an  in¬ 
stance  in  which  the  phenomenon  under  investigation  occurs 
and  an  instance  in  which  it  does  not  occur ,  have  every  cir¬ 
cumstance  in  common  save  one ,  that  one  occurring  only  in 
the  former;  the  circumstance  in  which  alone  the  two  in¬ 
stances  differ  is  the  effect ,  or  the  cause ,  or  an  indispensable 
part  of  the  cause  of  the  phenomenon.  Again,  to  cite  a 
simpler  expression  of  this  method  phrased  negatively,  it 
may  be  said  that  “nothing  is  the  cause  of  a  phenomenon 
in  whose  presence  the  phenomenon  fails  to  occur.” 

It  is  this  test  which  the  experimenter  uses  when,  care¬ 
fully  controlling  the  conditions  of  his  investigation,  he 


80 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


seeks  to  eliminate  some  supposedly  significant  factor  in 
order  to  see  precisely  what  influence  this  will  have  on 
the  whole  procedure.  In  the  case  of  Pasteur's  re¬ 
searches,  we  saw  how  he  prepared  a  series  of  vessels  un¬ 
der  identical  conditions  filled  with  the  same  sterilized 
liquid,  but  constructed  so  that  the  air  could  enter  some, 
but  not  the  others.  The  fact  that  the  bacteria  subse¬ 
quently  appeared  in  the  former  and  not  in  the  latter  (or 
in  the  latter  only  after  air  had  been  forcibly  injected  by 
shaking)  justified  the  conclusion  that  the  circumstance 
in  which  alone  the  two  sets  differed  —  i.e.,  the  entry  of 
the  air  —  was  the  cause  of  the  varying  result. 

It  might,  of  course,  be  objected  that  the  two  sets  of 
flasks  were  not,  and  could  not  possibly  be,  absolutely 
alike  in  all  circumstances  save  the  one  referred  to.  No 
two  things  can  be  identical  in  this  sense;  the  flasks  stood 
in  slightly  different  positions ;  they  were  not  filled  at  pre¬ 
cisely  the  same  moment  nor  in  just  the  same  manner; 
they  were  not  originally  manufactured  in  exactly  the 
same  way,  and  so  forth.  Of  course  we  would  be  in¬ 
clined  to  dismiss  all  of  these  “ differences"  as  unimpor¬ 
tant  and  inessential,  and  in  the  case  at  hand  this  would 
undoubtedly  be  justified.  Nevertheless,  it  is  important 
to  note  that,  just  as  in  the  case  of  the  method  of  agree¬ 
ment  it  was  seen  to  be  well-nigh  impossible  to  secure  in¬ 
stances  which  had  only  one  factor  in  common,  so  in  the 
use  of  this  second  method  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  ob¬ 
tain  cases  differing  in  only  a  single  circumstance.  Very 
often  these  minor  differences  may  be  disregarded  as 
irrelevant,  but  in  this,  as  in  other  matters,  what  at  one 
time  seemed  irrelevant  has  sometimes  been  shown  later 
to  be  really  significant,  and  the  cautious  scientist  will 
bear  this  in  mind. 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


81 


3.  In  order  to  eliminate  as  far  as  possible  these  practi¬ 
cal  difficulties,  Mill  combined  these  two  methods  so  that 
the  logical  conclusiveness  of  the  Method  of  Difference 
might  be  combined  with  the  practical  availability  of  the 
Method  of  Agreement.  The  canon  of  the  Joint  Method 
seems  somewhat  alarmingly  involved,  but  to  those  who 
understand  the  Methods  of  Agreement  and  Difference, 
the  advantage  to  be  gained  by  their  joint  use  will  become 
apparent.  If  two  or  more  instances  in  which  the  phenom¬ 
enon  occurs  have  only  one  circumstance  in  common ,  while 
two  or  more  instances  in  which  it  does  not  occur  have  noth¬ 
ing  in  common  save  the  absence  of  that  circumstance ,  the 
circumstance  in  which  alone  the  two  sets  differ  is  the  effect , 
or  the  cause ,  or  an  indispensable  part  of  the  cause  of  the 
phenomenon . 

The  obvious  difficulties  of  this  rule  are  not  confined 
to  its  involved  phraseology.  As  the  above-mentioned 
critic  points  out,1  “it  would  be  better  if  for  The  circum¬ 
stance  in  which  alone  the  two  sets  of  instances  differ’  we 
read  ‘  the  circumstance  in  which  alone  the  second  set  of 
instances  agrees  to  differ  from  the  first  set.”’  As  may 
be  seen  by  reference  to  the  symbolic  representation  cited 
above,2  as  well  as  to  the  illustrations  given  below,  the 
method  is  useful  in  those  cases  where  several  factors  are 
common  to  a  set  of  instances  in  which  the  same  result 
occurs.  The  elimination  of  certain  of  these  factors  is 
made  possible  by  the  discovery  of  cases  in  which  they 
are  present  without  bringing  about  this  result. 

Take  the  instance  cited  in  applying  the  Method  of 
Agreement.  We  there  saw  that,  by  changing  the  nature 
of  the  filter  from  cotton  to  asbestos,  Pasteur  had  indi¬ 
cated  that  the  nature  of  the  filter  did  not  matter.  We 
1  Joseph,  op.  cit.,  p.  399,  footnote.  2  Cf.  footnote,  page  77  above. 


82 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


realized,  however,  that  this  introduction  of  the  air  was 
not  the  only  factor  common  to  the  two  cases;  that  many 
circumstances,  such  as  the  presence  of  the  same  investi¬ 
gator,  of  the  force  of  gravitation,  of  a  specific  tempera¬ 
ture,  atmospheric  moisture,  and  the  like,  were  shared  by 
the  two  tests.  Could  any  of  them  be  the  cause  of  the 
appearance  of  the  germs?  We  shall  have  occasion  later 
on  to  ask  ourselves  this  question  in  a  somewhat  different 
context.  For  the  present  let  us  note  how,  by  supple¬ 
menting  the  use  of  the  Method  of  Agreement  by  the  in¬ 
troduction  of  the  Method  of  Difference,  it  could  easily 
be  shown  that  none  of  the  above-mentioned  factors  was 
the  cause.  It  was  simply  necessary  to  show  that  in 
many  instances  where  these  factors  were  present,  even 
if  others  in  addition  to  the  dust-carrying  air  were  not, 
the  germs  did  not  appear. 

To  clarify  further  the  use  of  the  Joint  Method,  as  well 
as  because  it  is  frequently  employed  in  investigations 
such  as  this,  it  is  desirable  to  present  another  illustration, 
this  time  one  not  taken  from  the  laboratory.  Preven¬ 
tive  medicine  finds  it  necessary  not  only  to  cure  the  sick 
and  to  prevent  contagion,  but  also  if  possible  to  protect 
the  healthy  from  the  exposure  which  caused  the  original 
cases.  It  is  therefore  important  to  discover  how  the 
sick  persons  were  infected.  In  a  given  town,  let  us  say, 
several  cases  of  anthrax  have  occurred.  What  was  the 
cause?  The  health  department  will  inquire  about  the 
habits  and  recent  activities  of  the  various  patients.  All 
are  women  and  almost  all  are  employed  in  the  same  loca¬ 
tion.  But  so  are  many  others  who  were  not  infected. 
Several  are  in  a  brush  factory,  but  then  others  who  also 
have  the  disease  are  not.  What  we  must  find,  if  that  be 
possible,  is  some  circumstance  common  to  all  the  cases, 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


83 


which  distinguishes  them  from  all  persons  not  infected. 
This  factor  is  finally  found  to  be  that  they  all  purchased 
a  certain  cheap  grade  of  fur  which  they  have  been  wear¬ 
ing  and  which  has  infected  them;  whereas  the  other 
women  of  the  town  had  nothing  in  common  which 
might  have  been  connected  with  the  disease,  save  the 
fact  that  none  of  them  had  worn  the  furs.  Of  course,  in 
actual  experience  the  lines  may  never  be  so  sharply 
drawn.  Some  women  may  have  bought  fur  pieces  and 
avoided  infection  by  reason  of  greater  resistance,  or 
other  modifying  conditions  may  have  entered.  How¬ 
ever,  the  method  is  effectively  employed,  though  com¬ 
plete  precision  is  impossible.  It  depends  on  discovering 
all  the  cases  united  by  some  common  circumstances, 
and  then  eliminating  other  factors  also  common  to 
them,  by  discovering  that  these  latter  are  not  actually 
productive  of  the  results  in  other  cases  where  they  are 
present. 

4.  It  may  not  always  be  possible  to  find  instances  in 
which  a  phenomenon  is  totally  absent.  To  cover  cases 
of  this  kind  Mill  distinguished  a  fourth  method,  the 
Method  of  Concomitant  Variations,  depending  on  the 
fact  that  Whatever  phenomenon  varies  in  any  manner 
whenever  another  phenomenon  varies  in  some  particular 
manner ,  is  either  a  cause  or  an  effect  of  that  phenomenon,  or 
is  connected  with' it  through  some  fact  of  causation .  It  will 
be  recalled  that  Pasteur,  in  considering  the  effects  of 
the  dusts  of  the  air,  took  specimens  in  various  places,  in 
the  city,  in  rural  districts,  even  on  remote  Alpine  gla¬ 
ciers.  Certain  of  these  specimens,  he  found,  were  purer 
than  others  in  respect  to  their  micro-organic  contents. 
Moreover,  the  degree  of  concentration  of  these  germs 
corresponded  to  the  relative  purity  of  the  air  in  the  dif- 


84 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


ferent  localities.  Inasmuch  as  this  variation  of  the  at¬ 
mospheric  dust  was  the  only  “ significant”  circumstance 
which  was  changed  in  the  different  tests,  the  Method  of 
Concomitant  Variations  is  really  a  refined  use  of  the 
Method  of  Difference.  Where  the  corresponding  varia¬ 
tions  can  be  quantitatively  measured,  this  method  gives 
striking  results.1  Where  such  a  factor  as  a  specific 
change  in  temperature  gives  rise  to  corresponding 
changes,  let  us  say,  in  the  degree  of  vitality  of  the  organ¬ 
isms  affected  by  these  altered  conditions,  the  relation¬ 
ship  becomes  all  the  more  apparent.  This  relationship  is 
not  necessarily  uniform  throughout  the  scale  of  tempera¬ 
ture;  there  may  be  no  effect  apparent  for  a  wide  range, 
but  below  a  certain  degree  and  above  another  tempera¬ 
ture,  definite  effects  will  be  noticeable  and  therefore  as¬ 
signable  to  these  heat  conditions.  Clearly  it  is  not  nec¬ 
essary  that,  as  one  circumstance  increases  in  quantity  or 
intensity,  the  other  should  do  the  same.  Where  the  one 
increases  while  the  other  diminishes,  or  whenever  there 
is  any  proportionate  variation  between  two  or  more 
phenomena,  especially  if  a  quantitative  ratio  is  discover¬ 
able,  one  is  justified  in  concluding  that  this  relationship 
is  not  accidental,  but  is  due  to  a  causal  connection. 

5.  The  fifth  and  last  method  defined  by  Mill  was 
called  by  him  the  Method  of  Residues :  Subduct  from 
any  phenomenon  such  part  as  is  known  by  previous  in¬ 
ductions  to  be  the  effect  of  certain  antecedents ,  and  the 
residue  of  the  phenomenon  is  the  effect  of  the  remaining 
antecedents .  The  number  of  instances  in  which  one  can 
assign  to  their  precise  causes  all  the  conditions  of  a  case 
except  the  one  under  investigation,  and  thereby  isolate 

1  Cf.  Joule’s  experiments  described  in  chap,  vi,  and  also  section  4, 
chap.  x. 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


85 


the  previously  unknown  cause  of  this  particular  condi¬ 
tion,  seems  exceedingly  rare.  But  such  approximate  om¬ 
niscience  is  not  really  required  for  the  useful  application 
of  the  Method  of  Residues.  In  practice  it  is  the  method 
which  we  continually  employ  when  some  new  and  un¬ 
usual  circumstance  arises  in  an  otherwise  familiar  situa¬ 
tion.  You  come  into  your  room  and  find  your  desk  in 
total  disorder;  you  hear  the  sound  of  a  gun  in  a  usually 
quiet  forest  —  and  in  either  instance  you  associate  these 
events  not  with  any  normal  circumstances,  but  with 
some  happening  which  you  had  not  previously  attended 
to  —  say,  the  stranger  who  passed  you  in  the  hallway  or 
the  new  campers  who  pitched  their  tents  recently  by  the 
lakeside.  Just  so  the  scientist,  who  in  pursuing  his  inves¬ 
tigations  discovers  some  unexpected  circumstance,  re¬ 
considers  and  re-analyzes  the  conditions  under  which 
they  arose  to  find  the  neglected  factor  which  had  caused 
them.  It  may  be  seen  that  this  method  is  rather  of  serv¬ 
ice  in  improving  the  observation  of  a  case,  and  its  com¬ 
plete  diagnosis,  than  in  actually  verifying  an  hypothesis. 
In  this  sense  the  Method  of  Residues  is  to  be  regarded  as 
being  comparable  to  a  total  consideration  and  analysis 
of  the  problem  under  investigation,  rather  than  as  a 
testing  of  those  factors  which  have  been  enumerated  as 
being  relevant  to  the  situation.  Such  a  testing,  by 
means  of  one  or  more  of  the  methods  previously  consid¬ 
ered,  must  follow  an  application  of  this  analysis.  Nev¬ 
ertheless,  its  usefulness  and  significance  must  not  be 
underestimated.  Indeed,  some  of  the  most  magnifi¬ 
cent  discoveries  in  the  history  of  scientific  research  de¬ 
pended  on  investigations  guided  by  this  type  of  reason¬ 
ing,  as,  for  example,  the  dramatic  discovery  of  the  planet 
Neptune.  Such  a  discovery  is  then  tested  out  by  one 


86 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


of  the  previously  mentioned  inductive  methods;  that 
is,  having  been  led  by  the  Method  of  Residues  to  ask 
whether  the  desk  was  rifled  by  a  burglar,  the  shot  fired 
by  a  camper,  or  the  planet  Uranus  diverted  from  its 
course  by  the  influence  of  the  planet  Neptune,  we  seek 
to  verify  these  judgments  by  employing  one  of  the 
other  methods  of  proof. 

Having  considered  these  methods  which  the  investi¬ 
gator  uses  in  his  attempts  to  validate  some  general 
hypothesis  concerning  a  phenomenon,  by  reference  to 
the  precise  conditions  involved  in  any  such  case,  indicat¬ 
ing  how  he  shall  control  the  factors  of  his  experiment, 
and  what  tests  will  be  significant  and  convincing,  it  is 
now  necessary  to  mention  briefly  the  difficulties  attend¬ 
ing  these  steps.  These  difficulties  are  not  restricted  to 
any  one  or  another  of  the  particular  methods,  but  are 
involved  in  any  effort  to  discover  the  causal  relationship 
between  objects  or  events,  and  in  the  very  concept  of 
what  a  cause  is. 

Let  us  start  by  considering  a  practical  difficulty  which 
might  actually  arise  if  some  student  were  to  attempt  to 
reproduce  Pasteur's  experiments.  He  would  expose  his 
flasks  to  the  air,  set  them  aside  for  a  while  to  allow  the 
germs  to  multiply,  and  then  study  the  infusion  under  his 
microscope.  His  results,  we  feel  confident,  should  con¬ 
form  to  those  of  Pasteur.  But  supposing  that  he  had 
neglected  to  consider  with  sufficient  care  the  nature  of 
the  liquid  in  his  flasks.  If  this  liquid  contained  even  a 
comparatively  small  amount  of  alcohol,  or  a  strong  salt 
solution,  his  results  would  be  very  different  from  those 
expected.  To  be  sure,  the  bacteria  would  have  presum¬ 
ably  entered  the  exposed  flasks,  but  the  germicide  pres¬ 
ent  in  the  liquid  would  have  killed  them  and  prevented 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE  87 

their  reproduction  in  sufficient  numbers  to  be  readily 
observable. 

Shall  we,  then,  be  forced  to  conclude  that,  to  some  ex¬ 
tent  at  least,  Pasteur’s  opponents  were  right  in  claiming 
that  the  liquids  employed  were  the  causes  of  the  life 
which  arose  in  them?  And  if  that  is  true,  is  it  not 
equally  proper  to  claim  that  decaying  meat  is  the  cause 
of  the  appearance  of  worms  and  maggots,  and  linen  and 
corn  the  cause  of  mice?  Are  we  justified  in  merely  re¬ 
plying  to  these  questions  that  we  can  now  easily  show, 
by  the  use  of  our  inductive  methodology,  that  none  of 
these  are  the  true  causes  of  the  life  which  arises  in  them 
since  the  organisms  can  arise  even  in  their  absence? 
The  one  thing  necessary,  we  would  say,  is  that  the  par¬ 
ent  organism  should  be  given  an  opportunity  to  gener¬ 
ate  its  offspring,  and  it  therefore  is  the  real  cause  of  the 
resulting  life. 

If,  however,  certain  other  favorable  conditions  in  ad¬ 
dition  to  the  mere  presence  of  the  parent  organisms  are 
necessary,  are  they  not  also  causally  related  to  the  ef- 
fects  which  are  produced?  Moreover,  we  must  go  on  to 
consider  other  factors  which  have  determined  the  possi¬ 
bility  of  these  events.  All  the  environmental  conditions 
which  made  it  possible  for  the  creature  to  thrive  and  to 
develop  seem  to  enter  into  the  field  of  consideration,  all 
the  long  history  of  the  individual  and  of  its  species;  in¬ 
deed,  it  is  difficult  to  decide  where  to  stop.  All  these  in¬ 
numerable  factors  and  circumstances,  it  would  appear, 
had  their  share  in  shaping  the  course  of  events  in  such  a 
way  that  this  particular  object  which  we  are  studying 
could  appear  in  precisely  the  manner  in  which  it  does 
appear.  Are  all  of  these  contributing  conditions  to  be 
viewed  as  the  causes  of  the  phenomenon?  Surely  that 
depends  on  precisely  what  we  mean  by  “a  cause.” 


88 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Section  5.  What  is  a  Cause  ? 

If  a  boulder  is  rolled  down  a  hill,  it  may  crush  flowers, 
break  down  a  fence,  and  kill  a  snail.  Though  we  speak 
of  the  destruction  done  as  being  caused  by  the  boulder, 
yet  we  recognize  that  the  presence  of  the  flowers,  of  the 
fence,  and  of  the  snail  were  also  causes,  and  tne  absence 
of  a  man  may  have  been  the  cause  of  his  not  being  killed. 
To  this  we  may  add  as  causes,  in  other  senses,  the  slope 
of  the  hillside  and  the  youngster  who  pushed  the  stone, 
gravity,  and  probably  a  variety  of  other  influences. 

Indeed,  in  common  language  we  not  infrequently  use 
the  word  “  cause  ”  to  designate  any  particular  type  of  ex¬ 
planation.  If  we  hear  cries  in  an  adjoining  room,  we 
might  say,  “What  is  the  cause  of  the  disturbance?” 
Various  answers  might  be  given  to  such  a  question. 
Since  what  is  really  desired  is  an  explanation,  we  might 
say  that  a  child  had  been  the  cause  of  the  noise,  or  we 
might  specify  the  physiological  organs  which  had  been 
instrumental  in  producing  the  outcry.  Or  we  might  say 
that  neglect  had  been  the  cause,  meaning  thereby  that 
the  child’s  distress  could  have  been  prevented  through 
adequate  care.  Or  we  might  say  that  milk  had  been 
the  cause,  meaning  that  it  was  the  object,  conscious  or 
unconscious,  which  was  being  demanded. 

The  philosopher  Aristotle  presented  a  classification  of 
possible  uses  of  the  term  “cause.”  Taking  as  an  exam¬ 
ple  a  wooden  statue,  he  showed  that  a  sculptor  might  be 
the  cause  of  a  figure,  or  that  the  idea  in  the  sculptor’s 
mind  might  be  the  cause,  or  that  the  wood  might  be  the 
cause,  or  else  the  desire  of  the  artist  to  honor  Hermes. 
From  one  point  of  view  none  of  these  factors  may  be  re¬ 
garded  as  genuinely  being  the  cause  of  the  artistic  prod- 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


89 


uct,  since  any  one  of  them  might  be  present  without 
actually  producing  the  particular  effect.  And  that,  as 
we  have  seen,  is  precisely  what  is  demanded  of  a  bona 
fide  cause,  using  it  in  the  strict  sense.  The  whole  situa¬ 
tion,  then,  would  be  the  cause,  or  that  aspect  of  it  which 
inevitably  yielded  the  effect.  But  can  we  speak  of  a 
total  situation  in  precisely  that  way,  and,  if  so,  where 
shall  we  stop?  Shall  we  not  be  obliged  to  consider  the 
muscles  of  the  sculptor’s  arm,  the  descent  of  the  artist, 
the  forest  in  which  the  tree  was  cut,  etc.?  And  will  this 
not  take  us  to  the  consideration  of  some  First  Cause 
which  accounts  for  all  of  that?  Very  often  interesting 
questions  of  very  different  types  draw  us  into  the  same 
predicament.  So  the  child  questions  its  parent,  asking, 
‘  ‘  Who  made  the  flowers?  ”  “  Who  made  the  mountains 
and  the  valleys?”  Thus  Napoleon  sought  to  refute  an 
atheistic  general  by  pointing  to  the  starry  heavens  ask¬ 
ing  him,  “Who  created  the  spacious  firmament?” 

Astronomy  offers  no  reply  to  this  last  question,  and, 
indeed,  science  has  no  answer  to  any  of  these  queries 
when  phrased  in  this  way.  The  botanist  explains  the 
flower  by  pointing  to  the  seed;  the  geologist  finds  in  me¬ 
teorological  changes  the  explanation  which  he  seeks  for 
the  contour  of  the  land.  If  we  ask  who  made  an  auto¬ 
mobile  or  a  clock,  we  may  discover  the  manufacturer  of 
either.  But  science  offers  no  analogy  to  disclose  the  ori¬ 
gin  of  the  natural  product  as  was  disclosed  in  the  origin 
of  the  human  product  by  the  man  who  made  it.  Though 
the  idea  of  cause  leads  us  to  consider  a  total  situation 
and  all  that  lies  back  of  it,  science  is  satisfied  in  find¬ 
ing  not  a  Cause,  but  many  causes. 

To  claim  that  any  of  the  above  suggested  uses  of  the 
word  “cause”  are  improper  or  incorrect  would  be  un- 


90 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


justifiable,  but  at  .the  same  time  we  must  clearly  recog¬ 
nize  that  for  scientific  purposes  the  term  has  a  restricted 
and  specific  implication.  What  the  scientist  seeks  are 
the  proximate,  not  the  ultimate,  preconditions  of  the 
event  which  he  is  studying.  He  is  searching  for  certain 
natural  patterns  or  ways  in  which  things  hang  together 
which  will  increase  his  understanding  of  the  event.  But 
before  we  ask  more  definitely  what  the  function  and 
characteristics  of  this  understanding  are,  it  will  be  well 
to  note  again  the  outstanding  features  of  these  patterns^ 
these  causal  sequences  which  lead  to  it. 

The  general  scheme  of  causal  relationship  has  been 
phrased:  “  Whenever  things  occur  in  certain  relations  to 
each  other,  then  a  thing  having  a  fixed  relation  to  these 
things  will  occur  at  a  date  fixed  relatively  to  their 
dates.”  1  You  hit  one  billiard  ball  with  your  cue  and, 
if  your  aim  is  good,  it  will  presently  move  another  in  a 
definite  path.  You  expose  a  liquid  to  the  dusts  of  the 
air  and,  unless  some  other  counteracting  cause  inter¬ 
feres,  micro-organisms  will  shortly  be  discernible  in  it. 
Moreover,  we  feel  certain  that,  other  things  being  equal, 
this  always  has  been  and  always  will  be  possible. 

What  does  this  mean?  The  great  skeptic,  David 
Hume,  claimed  that,  when  two  events  are  causally  re¬ 
lated,  all  that  we  really  know  about  them  is  “that  they 
are  contiguous  in  time  and  space  and  that  the  object  we 
call  cause  precedes  what  we  call  effect,”  or  at  least 
comes  along  with  it.  Is  a  causal  relationship,  then, 
nothing  more  than  invariable  succession?  The  spokes 
of  a  wheel  succeed  one  another  and  always  in  the  same 
order,  so  that  if  the  process  continued  without  end,  an 
observer  might  be  led  to  believe  that  Spoke  A  caused 

1  Bertrand  Russell,  Scientific  Method  in  Philosophy,  p.  210. 


I 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


91 


Spoke  B  to  follow  it.  If,  however,  the  wheel  were  to 
stop  turning,  he  would  find  that  no  such  causation  actu¬ 
ally  took  place;  although  the  movement  of  the  spokes 
is  causally  connected,  that  connection  consists  in  a 
common  relation  to  a  third  factor  of  which  their  move¬ 
ments  are  both  effects.  So  also  a  common  cause  pro¬ 
duces  the  phenomena  which  we  call  winter  and  spring,  or 
day  and  night,  and  provides  the  basis  of  their  sequence. 
Wherever  such  an  invariable  sequence  is  discovered,  the 
scientist  feels  certain  that  he  has  discovered  a  real  pat¬ 
tern,  a  real  causal  relation  in  nature.  In  a  complex  situ¬ 
ation,  however,  he  is  always  trying  to  single  out  particu¬ 
lar  patterns,  to  analyze  the  complex  relations  into  sim¬ 
pler  ones.  How  could  he  discover  whether  it  was  really 
Spoke  B  or  the  common  motion  of  the  axle  that  caused 
Spoke  A  to  revolve?  By  removing  B ;  that  is,  by  apply¬ 
ing  the  Method  of  Difference.  Many  situations,  how¬ 
ever,  are  in  practice  not  susceptible  of  such  simple  treat¬ 
ment.  It  is  extremely  important  not  to  assume  that, 
just  because  some  event  came  after  another,  it  was  due 
to  its  influence;  even  when  the  succession  is  constantly 
repeated,  this  may  be  the  result  of  some  common  cause 
rather  than  the  result  of  either  one  or  the  other.  In 
other  cases  experimental  control  is  entirely  out  of  the 
range  of  possibility.  We  can  hardly  start  pushing  the 
earth  over  to  see  whether  we  cannot  pass  directly  from 
winter  to  summer.  We  cannot  experiment  with  the 
past,  and  discover  whether  Louis  XVFs  weakness  was 
the  real  cause  of  the  French  Revolution.  How,  then,  do 
we  analyze  such  situations?  When  we  cannot  apply  the 
inductive  methods  in  actual  experiment,  we  apply  them 
in  imagination.  We  can  imagine  what  would  have  oc¬ 
curred  had  Archimedes  found  his  fulcrum  and  succeeded 


92 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


in  moving  the  earth,  and  we  can  in  imagination  observe 
summer  succeeding  immediately  upon  winter.  We  can 
in  imagination  kill  Louis  XVI  at  the  age  of  ten,  and  ob¬ 
serve  that  events  are  not  appreciably  altered.  Such 
are  the  uses  of  reflection ! 

What  basis  have  we  for  assuming  that  there  is  uni¬ 
formity  of  this  kind  in  nature,  that  a  given  situation  will 
yield  definite  consequences,  and  that  for  every  set  of 
circumstances  there  are  antecedents  which  account  for 
them?  rI  his  question  leads  at  once  to  one  of  the  funda¬ 
mental  aspects  of  the  universe  in  which  we  find  our¬ 
selves.  We  discover,  as  we  look  about  in  nature,  that 
events  do  not  j  ust  happen  without  any  relation  to  pre¬ 
ceding  or  succeeding  events,  but  that  certain  sequences 
in  events  take  place  over  and  over  again.  We  see  light¬ 
ning,  and  we  hear  thunder.  We  are  assured  that  every 
time  we  hear  thunder,  lightning  has  previously  been  ob¬ 
served.  When  we  swat  flies,  they  cease  to  buzz.  No 
matter  how  many  we  swat,  provided  we  swat  vigorously 
and  accurately  enough,  the  same  result  will  occur. 
These  two  examples  are  but  typical  of  the  mvriads  that 
occur  in  nature.  Our  life  is  one  long  course  of  discovery 
of  these  invariable  sequences,  these  fixed  patterns  in 
events,  that  form  so  essential  a  part  of  our  experience. 
They  are,  in  fact,  precisely  that  feature  of  our  uni 
verse  that  makes  it  an  ordered  cosmos  rather  than  a 
mere  chaos,  in  which  lightning  might  be  followed  now  by 
thunder,  now  by  cream  cheese,  and  now  by  purple- 
bearded  tigers.  These  patterns  which  force  themselves 
upon  our  attention,  and  to  the  analysis  of  which  the 
scientist  devotes  his  life,  are  causal  relations,  uniform 
correlations  between  causes  and  effects,  such  that,  un¬ 
less  some  other  cause  has  prevented  it,  when  one  part  of 
the  pattern  is  discovered  the  rest  is  sure  to  follow. 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


9$ 


How  do  we  know  that  these  patterns  exist  in  nature? 
Because  we  have  discovered  them  in  our  experience,  and 
have  found  that  they  repeat  themselves  again  and  again. 
Sometimes,  to  be  sure,  exceptions  seem  to  occur,  but  we 
have  hitherto  been  able  to  explain  these  exceptions  as 
cases  in  which  one  pattern  entered  into  and  was  altered 
by  another  pattern.  Most  bodies,  we  have  found,  fall 
to  the  earth;  but  balloons  rise.  This  anomaly  is  ex¬ 
plained  by  reference  to  the  more  general  laws  of  me¬ 
chanics,  which  furnish  patterns  into  which  we  can  satis¬ 
factorily  fit  bodies  lighter  than  air.  How  do  we  know 
that  these  sequences  will  continue  to  repeat  themselves 
in  the  future?  Strictly  speaking,  of  course,  we  don’t; 
it  is  possible  that  to-morrow  the  trump  of  doom  will 
sound,  that  the  dead  will  arise,  and  that  all  things  will 
be  made  new  —  with,  it  is  to  be  supposed,  quite  new 
millennial  patterns  for  events  to  follow.  Yet  no  man 
can  really  believe  that  such  an  overthrow  will  take 
place;  the  uniformity  of  nature,  the  conviction  that 
things  will  continue  to  occur  in  the  same  manner  as  they 
have  hitherto,  is  undoubtedly  the  best-founded  general¬ 
ization  in  the  whole  range  of  human  experience. 

It  is  this  very  generalization  which  provides  the  basis 
for  scientific  understanding  and  gives  to  it  its  outstand¬ 
ing  characteristics.  If  these  patterns  are  discoverable, 
then  they  can  be  traced  out  in  detail.  Prediction,  as 
well  as  historical  reconstruction,  with  all  the  innumer¬ 
able  advantages  which  it  entails,  then  becomes  possible. 
When  we  see  clouds  gathering,  we  learn  to  seek  shelter 
from  the  approaching  storm.  And  closely  allied  to  this 
possibility  of  prediction  come  the  occasions  to  control 
some  at  least  of  the  events  involved  in  any  sequence. 
Not  only  do  we  learn  to  seek  shelter  in  houses,  we  also 


94 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


attach  lightning  rods  to  our  homes  in  order  to  protect 
them  from  the  effects  of  electric  bolts  —  we  modify  the 
particular  series  of  events,  alter  the  pattern  of  nature. 
Of  course,  the  particular  pattern  which  we  select  in  the 
interests  of  prediction  and  control  will  depend  on  the 
purposes  which  we  aim  to  accomplish.  If  we  wish  to 
photograph  the  flashes,  we  will  concern  ourselves  with  a 
somewhat  different  set  of  causal  relations  and  arrange 
our  actions  accordingly.  Sometimes  the  fact  that  mi¬ 
crobes  multiply  in  certain  liquids  will  guide  us ;  at  other 
times  the  fact  that  they  may  be  killed  by  other  media 
will  be  more  significant  for  our  purposes.  It  was  this 
same  consideration  which  led  us  to  remark,  in  an  earlier 
chapter,  that  any  phenomenon  could  be  classified  and 
defined  in  different  ways  for  different  contingencies. 

The  very  fact  that  it  is  possible  to  achieve  knowledge 
by  observation  and  experiment  rests  on  the  existence  of 
uniform  and  invariable  causal  sequences  in  nature  and 
on  the  fact  that  events  do  not  occur  detached  from  se¬ 
quences.  If  we  can  find  one  of  these  sequences  or  pat¬ 
terns,  we  are  as  sure  as  we  can  be  of  anything  in  experi¬ 
ence  that  it  will  follow  its  stereotyped  routine.  Hence 
a  single  crucial  set  of  experiments  can  prove  to  us  a 
universal  causal  law.  By  the  use  of  the  experimental 
methods  we  can  verify  an  hypothesis.  We  can  proceed 
from  particular  instances  to  general  law;  that  is  an  ul¬ 
timate  fact  of  our  experience.  It  cannot  be  explained 
by  anything  else;  but  it  throws  a  flood  of  light  upon 
the  very  nature  of  our  universe.  For  knowledge  to 
be  possible,  our  universe  must,  to  that  extent,  be  an 
ordered  cosmos;  which  is  but  another  way  of  saying 
that  the  existence  of  scientific  understanding,  predic¬ 
tion,  and  control  depends  on  the  intelligibility  of  our 


EXPERIMENTAL  SCIENCE 


95 


universe  and  the  possibility  of  framing  universal  laws. 
How  these  laws  may  be  developed  we  shall  see  in  the 
next  chapter. 

QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  Precise  observation  is  the  necessary  preliminary  to  the  discovery  of 
causal  relationships.  How  may  the  recognition  of  causal  connec¬ 
tions  lead  to  further  important  observations?  Illustrate. 

2.  Does  the  same  mutual  relationship,  referred  to  in  question  1,  exist 
between  the  formulation  of  a  general  hypothesis  and  the  testing  of 
causal  sequences?  Give  reasons. 

3.  What  is  the  relation  between  the  discovery  of  the  cause  of  an  event 
and  the  ability  to  bring  about  that  event?  What  does  this  suggest 
regarding  the  development  of  chemistry?  Of  astronomy?  Of  the 
social  sciences? 

4.  What  is  heterogenesis?  How  does  it  differ  from  abiogenesis? 
From  biogenesis?  Define  “spontaneous  generation/' 

5.  What  did  Redi’s  experiments  prove? 

6.  What  definite  questions  did  Pasteur  propose?  What  characteris¬ 
tics  of  his  method  facilitated  the  answering  of  his  questions?  Com¬ 
pare  his  observations  with  those  of  the  diagnostician  mentioned  in 
Chapter  II. 

7.  What  requirements  of  a  good  hypothesis  (as  developed  in  Chapter 
III)  did  Pasteur's  hypothesis  fulfill? 

8.  a.  Why  is  it  easier  to  discover  the  causes  for  the  failure  of  a  wheat 

crop  than  to  discover  the  reasons  why  a  successful  crop  yielded 
an  inadequate  financial  return  to  the  farmer? 

6.  What  factors  would  be  especially  significant  in  answering  the 
first  question? 

c.  If  you  were  led  to  believe  that  an  excess  of  rain  caused  the  crop 
failure,  how  would  you  proceed  to  test  your  hypothesis? 

d.  If  the  opinion  were  advanced  that  the  farmer’s  loss  was  due  to 
his  failure  to  attend  church  regularly,  how  would  you  test  this 
view?  If  you  disproved  its  truth,  what  would  this  indicate  as  to 
the  advisability  of  attending  church  regularly? 

e.  If  the  excess  of  rain  were  causally  connected  with  the  crop  fail¬ 
ure,  how  could  you  account  for  a  large  wheat  harvest  on  a  neigh¬ 
boring  farm? 

f.  If  the  wheat  fields  of  the  district  yielded  a  poor  return,  while  the 
potato  crop  was  unusually  good,  what  might  this  indicate? 
Would  you  regard  your  answer  as  wrong  if  one  farmer  had  a  poor 
wheat  and  a  poor  potato  crop? 

9.  Indicate  briefly  the  use  of  the  five  experimental  methods  in  (a)  the 
symbol  system  suggested  in  the  note  on  page  77;  (6)  in  Pasteur’s 
work;  (c)  in  any  other  problem. 


96 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


10.  Why,  despite  its  apparent  simplicity,  is  the  Method  of  Agreement 
difficult  to  employ?  Give  illustrations. 

11.  Why  is  mere  temporal  succession  insufficient  proof  of  causal  con¬ 
nections?  Why  does  it  suggest  the  presence  of  some  “cause"  ? 

12.  How  does  the  discovery  of  causal  sequences  effect  the  possibility  of 
prediction?  Of  greater  control?  Of  increased  understanding? 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

On  the  Field  of  Biology: 

Sedgwick  and  Wilson,  General  Biology.  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1907. 

W.  A.  Locy,  Biology  and  its  Makers.  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1908. 

Jordan,  Kellogg,  and  Heath,  Animals.  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1911. 

On  the  Origin  of  Life: 

H.  F.  Osborn,  Origin  and  Evolution  of  Life.  Charles  Scribner’s  Sons. 
1917. 

B.  Moore,  Origin  and  Nature  of  Life ,  Home  University  Library.  Henry 
Holt  &  Co. 

J.  Tyndall,  Floating  Matter  of  the  Air.  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1902. 

R.  Vallery-Radot,  Life  of  Pasteur.  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.,  1916. 

On  the  Inductive  Methods  and  the  Idea  of  Cause: 

J.  S.  Mill,  System  of  Logic  (especially  Book  3).  Harper  &  Bros.,  8th 
edition,  1900. 

W.  S.  Jevons,  Principles  of  Science.  The  Macmillan  Company,  1892. 

H.  W.  B.  Joseph,  Introduction  to  Logic.  Clarendon  Press,  1916. 

B.  Russell,  Scientific  Method  in  Philosophy.  Open  Court,  1912. 

Also  chapters  b  any  of  the  Logic  texts  mentioned  in  the  bibliography 
to  Chapter  IJL 


CHAPTER  V 


DEDUCTIVE  ELABORATION  AND  THE  RELATION  OF 
IMPLICATION  IN  MATHEMATICS 

Section  1 .  The  Nature  and  Function  of  Mathematical 

Reasoning 

The  fourth  stage  in  our  analysis  of  the  typical  act  of 
reflective  thinking  we  found  to  be  the  elaboration  of 
the  various  hypotheses  that  had  been  suggested  as  solu¬ 
tions  to  the  initial  difficulty,  and  the  careful  ascertain¬ 
ing  of  all  the  consequences  they  might  be  expected  to 
have  if  true.  Thus,  in  our  example  of  the  Copernican 
theory,  we  saw  how  men  reasoned  that,  if  that  were  a 
correct  explanation  of  the  planetary  motions,  then  there 
would  have  to  be  some  apparent  displacement,  no  mat¬ 
ter  how  slight,  in  the  positions  of  the  fixed  stars  when 
viewed  from  opposite  sides  of  the  earth’s  orbit. 

It  is  this  process  which  we  purpose  to  examine  in  more 
detail  in  this  chapter.  Just  how  can  we  ascertain  the 
consequences  that  will  follow  from  certain  other  truths? 
It  is  obvious  that  we  are  here  dealing  with  a  kind  of  re¬ 
flection  that  differs  markedly  from  that  summing  up  of 
great  bodies  of  facts  under  general  laws  that  has  occu¬ 
pied  our  attention  hitherto.  We  are  concerned  here 
with  the  relations  that  subsist  between  two  or  more  prop¬ 
ositions,  not  with  those  obtaining  among  facts;  and 
more  especially  with  that  type  of  relation  which  holds 
between  two  propositions  when  from  the  truth  of  the 
first  we  can  infer  the  truth  of  the  second.  We  can  ex¬ 
press  this  relation  in  several  ways.  We  can  say  that  one 


98 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


proposition  is  “  implied  ”  by  another,  or  we  can  say  that 
the  second  “ follows  necessarily”  from  the  first.  It  is 
significant  that  the  truth  of  the  relationship  in  no  wise 
depends  upon  the  truth  of  the  first  proposition .  It 
makes  no  difference  whether  John  has  a  sister  Helen  or 
not;  we  know  that  if  he  has  a  sister  Helen,  then  she  has  a 
brother  John. 

This  relation  of  “if  . .  .  then  ...  ”  is  called  the  relation 
of  implication ,  and  the  elaboration  of  hypotheses  which 
constitutes  the  fourth  stage  of  our  analysis  consists  in 
the  discovery  of  the  various  propositions  which  are  im¬ 
plied  by  the  original  suggestion.  This  whole  process  of 
following  the  network  of  relations  which  bind  truths  to¬ 
gether  is  called  “deduction”;  whenever  we  can  deduce 
one  proposition  from  another,  we  know  that  a  relation 
of  implication  obtains  between  them.  This  relation  of 
implication  has  been  defined  as  that  which  holds  be¬ 
tween  two  propositions  when  the  denial  of  the  second 
is  inconsistent  with  the  truth  of  the  first. 

Our  example  of  this  deductive  elaboration  of  hypothe¬ 
ses  will  be  drawn  from  mathematics,  whose  very  defini¬ 
tion  is  “the  science  of  implication.”  For  mathematics 
is  concerned  with  that  structure  of  things  which  by  its 
existence  makes  it  possible  to  proceed  from  one  truth  to 
another  deductively.  That  is  why  in  every  completely 
developed  science  the  part  played  by  mathematics  is 
very  large  indeed.  The  relations  with  which  the  math¬ 
ematician  deals  seem  to  be  a  part  of  the  very  founda¬ 
tion  of  the  world  we  live  in,  so  that  we  have  discovered 
that,  if  any  proposition  that  holds  true  of  experience  is 
elaborated  in  accordance  with  the  rules  of  mathematics, 
the  conclusions  thereupon  reached  will  also  hold  of  ex¬ 
perience.  This  fact  about  our  universe,  and  the  addi- 


DEDUCTION  IN  MATHEMATICS 


99 


tional  fact  that  the  quantitative  methods  of  mathe¬ 
matics  admit  of  the  utmost  accuracy  and  precision  of 
formulation,  explain  why  in  each  of  the  fields  we  have 
looked  at  so  far  mathematics  is  so  fundamental.  It 
does  seem  to  be  true  that  the  more  highly  developed  a 
science  becomes,  and  the  more  knowledge  we  gain  about 
the  relations  between  its  objects,  the  more  its  beliefs 
tend  to  fall  into  mathematical  form,  and  to  admit  of 
treatment  by  purely  mathematical  methods.  So  true  is 
it  that  a  science  is  successful  just  in  so  far  as  it  is  able 
to  formulate  its  beliefs  mathematically,  that  many  men 
have  naturally  come  to  think  that  in  mathematics  is  to 
be  found  the  exemplar  of  all  true  knowledge. 

They  have  been  aided  in  reaching  this  conclusion  by 
the  seeming  absolute  certainty  with  which  mathemati¬ 
cal  conclusions  are  vested.  In  experimental  science,  in 
even  so  well-established  a  body  of  knowledge  as  modern 
chemistry,  however  sure  we  may  be  that,  tested  again 
and  again  in  the  laboratory,  our  beliefs  are  true  and  un¬ 
shakable,  we  can  never  be  quite  certain  that  some  new 
discovery  may  not  upset  all  our  theories  and  require  an 
entire  readjustment.  We  have  just  been  astounded  to 
learn  that  astronomy,  which  we  had  fancied  in  all  its 
essential  features  fixed  since  the  days  of  Newton,  has 
suddenly  been  forced  by  the  theory  of  relativity  to 
reconsider  a  great  many  of  its  fundamental  beliefs. 
Hence  it  is  little  wonder  that  investigators  have  looked 
enviously  upon  mathematics  as  that  science  in  which 
truths  can  be  proved  with  no  fear  that  they  will  ever  be 
questioned.  When  a  proposition  in  mathematics  has 
been  proved,  within  the  field  of  its  own  presuppositions, 
it  is  so.  In  no  other  field  of  human  knowledge  can  this 
be  said.  For  this  reason,  there  have  even  been  men 


100 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


who  have  dreamed  of  the  time  when  it  would  be  just  as 
easy,  to  determine  whether  a  certain  course  of  action  is 
right  or  wrong,  and  when  that  question  would  be  just  as 
finally  settled,  as  it  is  now  to  determine  once  and  for  all 
the  product  of  674  and  45367.  Or  they  have  painted 
pictures  of  the  replacing  of  our  present  costly,  cumber¬ 
some,  and  exceedingly  inefficient  system  of  popular  elec¬ 
tion  as  a  means  of  determining  the  best  man  to  govern 
us,  by  a  mathematical  method  that  would  give  us  the 
fittest  candidate  as  infallibly  as  we  can  now  compute  the 
area  of  a  triangle  with  given  sides. 

Are  these  admirers  of  mathematical  reasoning  indeed 
right?  Is  the  mind  that  has  been  trained  to  think  in 
terms  of  mathematics,  to  solve  mathematical  problems 
and  to  reach  certainty  by  rigid  and  unassailable  mathe¬ 
matical  proofs,  really  the  best?  Though  this  has  been 
believed  by  many  of  the  world’s  greatest  thinkers,  most 
men  at  the  present  time  do  not  maintain  it.  While  ad¬ 
mitting  all  that  is  claimed  for  the  certainty  of  mathe¬ 
matical  thought,  they  hold  that  the  field  to  which  it 
applies  has  its  limits,  and  that,  although  it  is  an  invalu¬ 
able  tool,  it  is  by  no  means  the  only  one  that  must  be 
employed. 

Mathematics,  then,  guides  us  into  the  world  of  the  re¬ 
lations  between  truths,  and  hence  helps  us  incalculably 
in  the  interpretation  of  nature.  But  the  great  advan¬ 
tage  of  mathematical  beliefs  is  that  we  can  know  be¬ 
yond  perad venture  of  doubt  when  they  are  right.  Since 
the  trained  mind  is  the  mind  that  is  right,  and  knows  it 
is  right,  we  have  in  mathematics  an  opportunity  to  ob¬ 
serve  the  trained  mind  at  work  in  a  field  where  it  has 
succeeded  in  testing  out  its  hypotheses  rigorously.  In 
fact,  mathematics  is  preeminently  an  instrument  for 


DEDUCTION  IN  MATHEMATICS 


101 


testing,  for  proving  what  has  been  suggested,  and  it  is 
only  secondarily  that  it  served  as  a  direct  means  for  the 
discovery  of  new  truth.  This  holds  especially  of  nearly 
all  of  the  mathematical  reasoning  that  finds  its  way  into 
books.  Of  course,  the  discovery  of  new  knowledge  in 
geometry  or  algebra  springs  out  of  the  imagination  that 
can  envisage  new  suggestions,  and  is  not  different  from 
such  discovery  in  any  branch  of  science.  But  what  the 
ordinary  demonstration  contains  is  not  the  intuitive  in¬ 
sight,  the  creative  synthesis  which  is  the  mark  of  the 
great  mathematical  pathfinder,  but  rather  the  setting 
forth  of  the  precise  proof  of  relationships  in  such  a  form 
that  their  validity  can  be  established  for  all.  And  one 
reason  at  least  for  the  certainty  of  mathematical  knowl¬ 
edge  lies  in  the  great  ease  and  simplicity  with  which  it  is 
possible  to  apply  to  it  the  most  rigorous  tests. 

For  example,  take  the  simple  proposition  in  geometry, 
the  sum  of  the  angles  of  a  triangle  is  equal  to  two  right 
angles.  We  know  that  this  is  true.1  It  is  thoroughly 
tested  knowledge.  We  know  that  if  there  is  at  any  time 
a  triangle  anywhere,  this  must  be  true  of  its  angles.  We 
know  it  because  it  has  been  proved,  proved  in  a  very 
simple  way.  We  do  not  have  to  measure  the  angles  of 
any  triangle  to  verify  this,  say,  on  the  planet  Mars,  be¬ 
cause  we  have  established  it  once  and  for  all,  for  every 
possible  triangle. 

Section  2.  The  Pythagorean  Theorem  —  the  Empirical 

Discovery 

Let  us  now  take  a  simple  piece  of  mathematical  rea¬ 
soning  with  which  we  are  all  familiar,  and  analyze  it 

1  Provided  we  know  what  we  mean  by  all  the  terms  involved,  of 
course.  See  Section  5. 


102 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


carefully,  both  to  discover  the  superiority  of  good  over 
poor  mathematical  thought,  and  to  find  out  if  possible 
the  significance  such  reflective  thinking  possesses.  We 
ahall  trace  the  development  of  the  Pythagorean  theorem 
from  its  early  beginnings  in  crude  experimental  survey¬ 
ing  to  its  classic  formulation  in  the  47th  proposition  of 
the  First  Book  of  Euclid,  and  we  shall  then  subject  that 
elaborate  reasoning  to  careful  scrutiny. 

The  science  of  geometry  originated,  we  are  told  by 
the  earliest  historians,  in  the  necessity  for  finding  some 
means  of  laying  out  the  boundaries  of  the  Egyptian  corn¬ 
fields  after  the  floods  of  the  Nile  had  swept  away  the  old 
marks.  Egyptian  surveyors  were  called  11  rope-stretch¬ 
ers”  because  they  worked  with  a  rope  twelve  units  long, 
divided  by  knots  into  three  lengths  of  three  units,  four 
units  and  five  units,  respectively.  When  this  rope  was 
stretched  into  the  form  of  a  triangle,  they  found  that 
they  had,  between  the  sides  of  three  and  four  units,  an 
angle  that  was  sufficiently  like  a  right  angle  to  suit  their 
purposes. 

What  had  these  rope-stretchers  discovered?  They 
had  observed  the  fact  that  apparently  a  rope  of  a  certain 
length,  stretched  into  a  triangle  of  a  certain  size,  formed 
a  right  angle.  How  had  they  tested  this?  By  measur¬ 
ing  ropes  and  by  comparing  the  angle  formed  with  right 
angles  formed  in  other  ways.  Their  test  was  obviously 
crude  and  inexact,  and  they  could  never  be  certain 
whether  they  had  a  right  angle  or  only  an  approxima¬ 
tion  of  one,  or  whether  if  they  had  more  accurate  meas¬ 
urements  they  might  not  get  an  angle  less  rather  than 
more  like  a  right  angle. 

In  Greece  there  lived  men  who  were  more  interested 
in  knowing  for  its  own  sake  than  in  any  practical  appli- 


DEDUCTION  IN  MATHEMATICS 


103 


cation  of  that  knowledge,  and  they  studied  these  curious 
discoveries  of  the  Egyptians.  One  of  them,  as  the  tra¬ 
dition  goes,  a  somewhat  mysterious  figure,  Pythagoras, 
observed  that  in  the  triangle  of  the  rope-stretchers  the 
sides  bore  a  relation  to  each  other  such  that  3 2  plus  4 2  = 
52;  that  is,  that  in  a  triangle  with  sides  3,  4,  and  5,  the 
squares  of  the  two  sides  equaled  the  square  of  the  side 
opposite  what  seemed  to  be  a  right  angle.  This  set  him 
to  thinking.  Was  it  true?  It  was  proved  only  by  meas¬ 
urements  of  doubtful  accuracy.  Or,  granted  that  the 
angle  was  really  a  right  angle,  was  this  merely  an  acci¬ 
dent,  due  to  the  particular  lengths  of  sides  chosen? 
Was  there  any  reason  for  the  fact?  Or,  was  it  possible 
that  it  was  due  to  the  very  nature  of  right  triangles?  If 
so,  was  there  any  other  shaped  right  triangle  of  which  it 
could  be  proved  true?  Pythagoras  was  a  pathfinder  in 
mathematics,  and  truths  that  had  remained  unfruitful 
in  the  minds  of  others  suggested  further  possible  truths 
to  him. 

Section  3.  The  Pythagorean  Theorem  —  The  Proof 
for  the  Isosceles  Right  Triangle 

Pythagoras  found  that  there  was  in  truth  another 
shape  of  right  triangle  of  which  he  could  prove  that  the 
sum  of  the  squares  upon  the  legs  was  equal  to  the  square 
upon  the  hypotenuse.  In  the  case  of  the  isosceles  right 
triangle,  not  only  does  the  same  relation  appear,  but  it 
is  possible  to  demonstrate  it  by  means  of  a  simple  fig¬ 
ure.  Thus,  take  the  isosceles  right  triangle  ABC,  with 
squares  erected  upon  its  three  sides,  and  draw  the  diag¬ 
onals  of  the  three  squares.  It  is  easy  to  prove  that  the 
eight  new  right  triangles  formed  are  equal  to  each  other. 
Thus,  right  triangle  1  =  right  triangle  2,  because  two 


104 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Figure  4 


sides  of  the  one  are  equal  to  two  sides  of  the  other,  re¬ 
spectively.  Similarly,  right  triangle  2  =  right  triangle 

ABC  =3=4.  Now,  the 
diagonals  of  a  square  bi¬ 
sect  each  other  at  right 
angles,  and  hence,  for 
the  same  reason,  right 
triangle  5  =  6  =  7  =  8. 
Right  triangle  5  =  right 
triangle  ABC,  as  the  side 
and  adjoining  angle  of 
the  one  is  equal  to  the 
side  and  adjoining  an¬ 
gle  of  the  other.  Hence, 
all  nine  triangles  are 
proved  equal,  and  1+2 
+  3+  4  =  5  +  6  +  7  +  8.  Thus,  for  the  right  triangle 
with  equal  legs,  the  Pythagorean  theorem  has  been 
proved  to  hold. 

Now,  just  what  has  been  done  in  this  geometrical 
proof  of  a  special  case  of  the  right  triangle?  In  the  first 
place,  it  is  now  seen  that  it  is  not  an  accident  that  the 
sum  of  the  squares  on  the  legs  is  equal  to  that  on  the  hy¬ 
potenuse.  We  know  that  it  follows  from  the  very  na¬ 
ture  and  structure  of  the  isosceles  right  triangle,  and  that 
it  could  not  be  otherwise.  We  have  proved  it  to  be  so, 
and  we  have  proved  it  not  for  just  some  particular  tri¬ 
angle,  like  the  3,  4,  5  triangle  of  the  rope-stretchers,  but 
for  every  and  any  right  triangle  whose  legs  are  equal.  Did 
we  have  to  measure  the  legs  and  the  angle  of  the  trian¬ 
gle?  No,  not  at  all.  In  fact,  were  we  to  try,  we  should 
soon  discover  that  we  could  not  do  so,  for,  as  we  know, 
the  sides  of  such  a  triangle  are  incommensurable.  How, 


DEDUCTION  IN  MATHEMATICS 


105 


then,  are  we  justified  in  assuming  that  every  isosceleO 
right  triangle  has  such  a  relation  between  its  sides  when 
we  cannot  measure  those  of  even  one? 

Before  answering  this  question,  let  us  ask  another. 
Of  what  triangle  is  the  proposition  true?  Is  it  true  of 
the  figure  on  the  paper?  No,  because  that  is  manifestly 
inaccurate.  Is  it  true  of  any  right  triangle  we  could 
draw  or  lay  out  anywhere,  with  the  most  exact  of  in¬ 
struments?  No,  because  no  instruments  are  accurate 
enough  to  construct  one  absolutely  right  angle.  Then 
of  what  is  it  true?  We  have  just  said,  of  every  isosceles 
right  triangle.  But  just  what  is  the  isosceles  right  tri¬ 
angle  of  which  it  is  true?  Obviously,  it  is  no  existent  tri¬ 
angular  object  anywhere  in  the  world,  but  rather  a 
geometrical  figure  we  have  defined  as  “a  plane  surface, 
bounded  by  three  straight  lines,  two  of  whose  sides  are 
equal  and  enclose  a  right  angle.”  We  have  proved  that, 
if  there  should  actually  exist  such  a  thing,  the  squares 
on  its  sides  would  have  to  equal  the  square  on  its  hy¬ 
potenuse  ;  but  we  have  no  means  of  knowing  that  such  a 
thing  does  exist,  and  we  are  here  dealing  with  an  abstract 
figure,  made  by  selecting  certain  characteristics  of  ex¬ 
istent  things,  and  by  excluding  others,  such  as  inac¬ 
curacy,  etc.,  by  our  definition.  Starting  with  this  defini¬ 
tion,  and  assuming  that  certain  other  relations  are  also 
true  (such  as,  for  example,  that  the  diagonals  of  a  square 
bisect  each  other  at  right  angles),  we  have  shown  that  if 
there  is  such  a  thing,  and  if  those  other  relations  are 
true,  then  if  we  consider  the  squares  on  the  sides  of  such 
a  triangle  they  must  be  equal  to  the  square  on  the  hy¬ 
potenuse.  These  proportions  are  related  by  a  chain  of 
implications. 

Let  us  now  ask,  what  advance  has  been  made  in  this 


106 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


strictly  mathematical  proof  over  the  purely  empirical 
testing  of  the  3,  4,  5,  triangle?  First,  it  is  a  much  more 
thorough  test.  We  could  not  be  quite  sure  of  the  latter; 
we  know,  with  absolute  certainty,  that  the  former  is 
true.  Hence  we  have  achieved  a  belief  that  has  been 
rigorously  tested.  Secondly,  we  are  no  longer  concerned 
with  particular  triangles  of  certain  sizes.  We  have 
proved  that  every  isosceles  right  triangle  has  the  same 
relation  between  its  sides.  Thus  we  have  achieved 
both  certain  proof  and  universality. 

Yet  there  is  a  third  and  a  most  important  distinction. 
The  two  propositions  have  been  proved  about  entirely 
different  kinds  of  things.  In  the  first  case,  we  were  deal¬ 
ing  with  an  actual  rope  of  a  certain  length.  In  the 
second,  we  are  dealing  with  an  abstract  figure  defined  by 
selecting  certain  chosen  qualities  from  existent  triangular 
objects.  We  have  proved  our  proposition  to  be  true  in 
the  realm  of  such  abstract  figures,  that  is,  in  what  we 
call  geometrical  space,  and  to  be  true  of  any  figure  con¬ 
forming  to  the  definition;  but  how  do  we  know  that  it 
will  hold  true  of  real  triangular  objects  in  the  actual 
world?  It  will  do  so  only  as  those  real  objects  possess  a 
structure  that  is  like  that  of  the  abstract  triangle  we 
have  been  discussing;  that  is,  only  as  the  inaccuracies 
and  other  adventitious  qualities  characteristic  of  these 
real  objects  are  irrelevant  to  our  purposes  with  them. 
Now,  the  whole  secret  of  the  enormous  success  of  the 
mathematical  interpretation  of  nature  lies  precisely  in 
this  fact,  that,  so  far  as  we  can  ascertain  by  means  of 
repeated  experiments,  for  many  of  our  most  important 
purposes  these  inaccuracies  are  irrelevant,  and  thus 
actual  triangular  objects  do  possess  a  structure  that 
does  coincide  closely  enough  with  the  abstract  triangles 


DEDUCTION  IN  MATHEMATICS 


107 


of  which  we  prove  things  so  that  our  proofs  can  be 
counted  upon  to  hold  of  them  also.  Were  this  not  the 
case,  our  geometry  would  be  a  pleasant  game  and  noth¬ 
ing  more;  as  it  is,  just  because  it  seems  to  give  us  an 
insight  into  the  nature  of  our  world,  it  has  proved  im¬ 
mensely  illuminating,  and  has  served  as  one  of  the  most 
potent  tools  in  man’s  hands  for  the  understanding  and 
the  consequent  conquest  of  nature. 

Section  4-  The  Pythagorean  Theorem  —  the  General 

Proof 1 

But  Pythagoras  was  not  satisfied  to  stop  with  this 
proof.  He  still  suspected  it  was  possible  to  prove  the 
relation  for  the  3,  4,  5 
triangle,  and  if  it  held 
for  the  two  cases,  it 
might  also  hold  for 
every  case  of  right  tri¬ 
angle.  With  this  hy¬ 
pothesis  in  mind,  he 
sought  to  discover  a 
proof  for  the  general 
case.  In  this  he  even¬ 
tually  succeeded,  and 
this  theorem  we  shall 
now  examine  more 
carefully,  for  it  rep¬ 
resents  geometrical 
thinking  at  its  fullest, 
the  proof  that  Pythagoras  worked  out,  but  rather  the 
simpler  form  that  was  given  to  it  by  Euclid. 

Theorem:  If  a  triangle,  ABC,  be  right-angled,  the 

1  Euclid,  book  i,  proposition  47. 


G 


However,  we  shall  not  take  up 


108 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


square  constructed  upon  the  side  BC  subtending  the 
right  angle  is  equal  in  area  to  the  sum  of  the  squares 
constructed  upon  the  sides  AB  and  AC  which  form  the 
right  angle. 

Construction.  On  the  sides  AB,  BC,  and  AC,  con¬ 
struct  the  squares  BG,  BE,  and  CH ;  through  A  draw  AL 
parallel  to  BD,  and  join  AD  and  FC. 

For  our  purposes  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  give  the 
entire  proof  in  detail,  as  an  examination  of  a  single  part 
will  suffice.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the  general 
method  consists  in  proving  first  that  triangle  FBC  = 
triangle  ABD ;  then  that  triangle  FBC  is  equal  in  area  to 
one  half  the  area  of  the  square  BG,  and  that  triangle 
ABD  is  similarly  equal  to  one  half  the  rectangle  BL, 
and  that  consequently  BG  is  equal  in  area  to  BL.  In 
the  same  way  it  is  proved  that  the  square  CH  is  equal 
in  area  to  the  rectangle  CL,  and  hence  BG  plus  CH  = 
BL  plus  CL,  or  the  square  BE.  Let  us  examine  the 
first  part  of  the  proof. 

Angle  FBA  =  angle  CBD,  because  both  are  right  an¬ 
gles  (definition  of  a  square),  and  magnitudes  which  coin¬ 
cide  with  one  another  are  equal.  Add  to  both  the  angle 
ABC,  and  angle  FBC  =  angle  ABD,  because  if  equals 

be  added  to  equals  the  results  are  equal.  FB  =  BA, 

% 

and  BC  =  BD,  by  definition  of  a  square.  Hence  triangle 
FBC  =  triangle  ABD,  because  two  triangles  are  equal 
if  two  sides  and  the  included  angle  of  one  are  equal  re¬ 
spectively  to  two  sides  and  the  included  angle  of  the 
other.  Because  the  angles  GAB  and  BAC  are  both 
right  angles,  GA  and  AC  are  in  the  same  straight  line. 
Now  the  square  BG  is  double  in  area  the  triangle  FBC, 
because  they  are  on  the  same  base  FB  and  between  the 
same  parallels  FB  and  GC,  and  similarly  the  rectangle 


DEDUCTION  IN  MATHEMATICS 


109 


BL  is  double  the  triangle  ABD,  because  they  are  on  the 
same  base  BD  and  between  the  same  parallels  BD  and 
AL  (the  area  of  a  rectangle  is  equal  to  the  base  times  the 
altitude,  while  that  of  a  triangle  is  equal  to  one  half  the 
base  times  the  altitude) .  Because  the  doubles  of  equals 
are  equal  to  one  another,  the  square  BG  is  equal  to  the 
rectangle  BL.  And  so  on. 

What  does  this  theorem  prove?  Like  the  proof  about 
the  isosceles  right  triangle,  it  proves  nothing  about  any 
real  object,  but  is  true  only  of  an  abstract  triangle. 
But  now,  in  this  more  general  case,  we  have  proved  our 
theorem,  not  about  a  triangle  of  some  particular  shape, 
such  as  one  whose  legs  are  equal,  but  of  all  right  trian¬ 
gles  whatsoever,  and  of  the  3,  4,  5  kind  incidentally. 
How  did  we  reach  this  conclusion?  Had  we  attempted 
to  measure  all  right  triangles,  following  the  method  of 
the  rope-stretchers,  we  should  have  required  an  infinite 
time.  We  might  have  reached  a  great  probability,  but 
we  could  never  have  become  certain,  as  we  are  now,  that 
no  exception  would  ever  be  found.  Instead,  we  have 
now  shown  the  relation  to  follow  from  the  nature  of  the 
right  triangle  itself,  and  have  discovered  that  size  and 
shape  are  quite  irrelevant.  That  is,  just  as  before  we 
selected  from  our  diagram  triangularity,  right-angled¬ 
ness,  and  equal-leggedness,  leaving  out  of  account  par¬ 
ticular  lengths,  thickness  of  line,  breadth,  inaccurate 
drawing,  etc.,  just  so  here  we  can  disregard  the  equal- 
leggedness  and  consider  only  the  two  properties  of  trian¬ 
gularity  and  right-angledness.  We  have  become  more 
general  and  more  abstract;  the  truth  of  our  proposition 
depends  upon  fewer  presuppositions.  And,  incidentally, 
we  have  proved  a  proposition  that  not  only  suggests  an 
infinite  number  of  further  propositions,  but  that  also  is 


110 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


the  basis  of  all  the  indirect  measurement  of  geometry, 
and  without  which  the  practical  applications  of  trig¬ 
onometry  to  surveying  could  scarcely  exist. 

Section  5.  Critical  Examination  of  the  Proof 

This,  then,  is  an  example  of  one  type  of  mathematical 
reasoning.  We  have  seen  how  it  differs  from  the  crude 
observation  and  untested  experiment  of  the  rope- 
stretchers  ;  we  have  seen  how  Pythagoras  first  proved  a 
particular  case,  and  then  how  that  case  was  made  more 
general.  Let  us  now  examine  this  reasoning  more 
searchingly,  that  we  may  ascertain  its  precise  nature 
and  its  validity. 

What  is  the  general  nature  of  this  reasoning?  It  is  a 
series  of  “implications”  or  “necessary  truths,”  each  de¬ 
pending  on  or  following  from  some  preceding  truth. 
Each  step  is  true  if  the  preceding  step  is  true.  Angle 
FBC  =  ABD  if  it  is  true  that  the  results  of  adding  equals 
to  equals  are  equal.  Triangle  FBC  =  ABD  if  it  is  true 
that  two  triangles  are  equal  if  two  of  their  sides  and  the 
included  angles  are  equal,  and  that  proposition  in  turn  is 
true  if  other  relations  are  true.  It  is  obvious  that  this 
chain  is  no  stronger  than  its  weakest  link,  and  also  that 
the  chain  must  be  attached  at  its  end  to  something.  If 
the  reasoning  follows  step  by  step,  the  whole  conclusion 
depends  on  the  truth  of  the  initial  assumptions.  The 
proof  is  true  only  if  these  are  true.  Now  what  exactly 
are  the  initial  assumptions  in  this  case? 

First,  there  are  definitions.  We  have  defined  our  tri¬ 
angle  in  certain  arbitrary  terms,  suggested  by,  but  dif¬ 
fering  greatly  from,  any  triangular  object  in  the  actual 
world.  But  here,  again,  definition  is  possible  only  in 
terms  of  something  further,  and  so  there  are  some  terror 


DEDUCTION  IN  MATHEMATICS 


111 


with  which  we  must  start,  leaving  them  undefined.  Our 
triangle  is  defined  in  terms  of  straight  lines.  A  straight 
line  is  defined  as  “the  shortest  distance  between  two 
points.”  But  it  is  impossible  to  define  distance  with¬ 
out  doing  so  in  terms  of  a  straight  line,  and  we  have  got 
nowhere. 

Secondly,  there  are  axioms  such  as  that  about  equal 
magnitudes.  These  are  first  truths  which  cannot  be 
proved  to  follow  from  any  simpler  truth.  Geometry, 
like  all  mathematics,  has  a  certain  number  of  such  ulti¬ 
mate  beliefs  lying  at  its  basis. 

Thirdly,  there  are  the  fundamental  principles  of  im¬ 
plication  itself,  by  which  we  pass  from  one  step  to  the 
next.  These  principles,  sometimes  called  the  “laws  of 
thought,”  are  so  ultimate  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
formulate  them  into  words  without  at  the  same  time  em¬ 
ploying  them.  An  outstanding  example  is  the  so-called 
“principle  of  contradiction,”  that  a  thing  cannot  be  that 
which  it  is  not. 

Now  whence  come  these  axioms,  whence  come  these 
laws  of  thought?  How  do  we  know  that  they  are  true? 
For  upon  their  validity  depends  the  entire  certainty 
we  have  found  so  characteristic  of  mathematical  reason¬ 
ing.  Here  we  reach  a  point  where  great  disagreement 
of  opinion  has  existed  since  the  very  beginning  of 
thought  and  is  very  widespread  to-day.  The  oldest  and 
most  common  answer  has  been,  we  just  know  that  they 
are  so.  They  are  self-evident  truths,  which  cannot  be 
denied  without  bringing  indescribable  confusion  and 
contradiction  into  our  thinking.  Unfortunately  for  this 
point  of  view,  it  was  discovered  and  proved  in  the  last 
century  that  not  only  could  these  axioms  be  denied 
without  introducing  any  inconsistency  into  our  think- 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


112 

ing,  but  that  we  could  build  up  other  systems  of  reason¬ 
ing  that  seemed  in  every  way  as  valid  as  our  ordinary 
Euclidean  geometry.  Which  of  these  geometries  was 
true?  Both  followed  from  their  premises,  and  as  ab¬ 
stract  sciences  both  were  able  to  pass  the  test  of  internal 
consistency.  But  which  premises  were  true?  Some 
took  the  position  that  axioms  were  merely  generaliza¬ 
tions  from  experience,  and  that  we  just  found  our  world 
to  be  like  that  which  they  describe.  Unfortunately  for 
this  point  of  view,  although,  of  course,  a  geometry  that 
is  to  be  useful  to  us  must  be  able  to  describe  the  world  in 
which  we  live  fairly  accurately,  so  far  as  means  at  our 
disposal  for  testing  out  which  set  of  axioms  is  true  are 
concerned,  there  are  a  number  of  different  sets,  each 
giving  rise  to  its  own  different  geometry,  and  each 
equally  able  to  interpret  our  world.  For  instance,  in 
one  of  them  it  is  quite  possible  to  have  more  than  one 
straight  line  drawn  between  two  points,  and  unless  we 
were  able  to  measure  distances  enormously  greater  than 
we  can  with  anything  at  our  disposal,  we  should  never 
be  able  to  tell  whether  we  were  living  in  one  kind  of  a 
world  or  the  other. 

Hence  most  mathematicians  to-day  regard  the  axioms 
at  the  basis  of  geometry  as  neither  self-evident  nor  found 
in  experience,  but  rather  as  conventional  assumptions 
about  our  world,  very  much  like  our  definitions  of  geo¬ 
metrical  objects.  These  assumptions  work  on  the  whole, 
but  we  have  no  means  for  testing  with  extreme  accuracy 
whether  our  world  really  corresponds  to  one  set  or  the 
other.  Where  we  can  thus  not  prove  which  is  true,  we 
sensibly  choose  that  system  which  will  work  and  which 
is  by  far  the  simplest,  ordinary  Euclidian  geometry. 

Hence  geometry  is  now  regarded  as  a  wholly  abstract 


DEDUCTION  IN  MATHEMATICS 


113 


or  hypothetical  science,  which  treats  of  the  properties, 
not  of  anything  that  actually  exists,  but  of  objects 
which  are  defined  in  a  certain  conventional  way,  and 
which  therefore  must  have  the  properties  which  we  as¬ 
sign  to  them  in  our  definitions.  The  axioms  about  space 
are  not  truths  which  we  discover  to  hold  of  the  space  in 
which  our  universe  is  set,  but  rather  assumptions  about 
an  abstract  space  whose  nature  we  have  agreed  shall  be 
such  as  is  described  by  them.  It  would  be  quite  possible, 
the  geometrician  tells  us,  to  assume  that  our  space  had  a 
great  many  other  characteristics,  and  that  other  axioms 
described  it  better  than  those  of  Euclid.  Such  systems 
have  in  fact  been  constructed  by  Lobachevsky,  by 
Riemann,  and  by  others,  and,  for  the  portions  of  that 
actual  space  in  which  we  live  and  with  which  we  are  our¬ 
selves  acquainted,  they  could  perhaps  be  made  to  apply 
just  as  well  as  the  ordinary  system.  But  they  are  very 
much  more  complicated,  and  hence  there  is  every  reason 
for  retaining  the  traditional  system  in  all  of  the  practical 
applications  of  geometry. 

It  is  possible,  maintain  the  upholders  of  this  view  of 
mathematics,  that  the  time  may  come  when,  in  measur¬ 
ing  the  immensities  of  interstellar  space,  we  shall  dis¬ 
cover  that  some  one  of  these  other  systems  of  geometry 
is  more  nearly  like  the  nature  of  our  space.  It  is  possi¬ 
ble  that  developments  following  the  discoveries  of  Ein¬ 
stein  may  lead  to  the  adoption  of  non-Euclidean  geom¬ 
etry  by  astonomers  in  certain  cases.  This  is,  however, 
doubtful,  because  in  such  measurements  our  only  yard- 
rule  is  a  beam  of  light,  and  it  seems  much  easier  to  as¬ 
sume  that  our  yard-rule  is  not  quite  straight  than  to 
assume  that  the  space  that  perceptibly  deviates  from  it 
is  different  from  what  we  had  thought. 


114 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


In  contrast  to  this  effort  to  free  mathematics  of  all 
dependence  upon  the  world  we  actually  experience, 
some  mathematicians  believe  that  the  axioms  of  Eu¬ 
clidean  geometry  are  fundamental  abstractions  from 
experience ,  rather  than  conventions  arrived  at  inde¬ 
pendently  of  it  —  abstractions  so  constantly  present,  so 
universal  to  all  mankind,  so  simply  and  clearly  con¬ 
ceived,  and  so  basic  in  man’s  thinking,  that  all  men  may 
and  at  an  early  age  do  understand  exactly  what  aspect 
of  our  common  experience  they  refer  to.  Although 
these  men  are  in  a  distinct  minority  to-day,  there  seems 
much  to  be  said  for  their  contention  that  the  axioms 
and  the  space  of  our  ordinary  geometry  are  not  purely 
arbitrary  conventions,  and  that  while  they  are  un¬ 
doubted  simplifications,  they  are  nevertheless  derived 
from  a  fundamental  aspect  of  our  universe.  Support  is 
lent  to  this  view  by  the  fact  that  although  the  defini¬ 
tions  of  geometrical  figures,  and  the  axioms  concerning 
the  nature  of  geometrical  space,  may  be  regarded  as  con¬ 
structions  of  the  mind  reached  by  convention  and  agree¬ 
ment,  the  axioms  about  quantity  in  general,  and  espe¬ 
cially  the  so-called  laws  of  thought,  seem  to  us  to  be 
more  deep-seated.  Are  they,  like  the  geometrical  ax¬ 
ioms,  conventions?  Is  it  possible  to  interpret  our  ex¬ 
perience  just  as  well  if  we  assume  other  and  contradic¬ 
tory  axioms?  So  far  it  can  only  be  said  that  we  do  not 
know.  It  has  not  yet  been  done.  No  one  has  been  able  to 
think  consistently  while  denying  the  axiom,  that  two 
things  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  each  other. 
Yet  such  axioms  can  certainly  not  be  proved  from 
anything  else.  They  certainly  do  coincide  with  our 
experience.  They  seem  to  be  part,  not  only  of  the  very 
structure  of  our  minds,  but  also  of  the  structure  of  the 


DEDUCTION  IN  MATHEMATICS 


115 


universe  to  which  thousands  of  years  of  biological  ex¬ 
perience  has  adapted  the  mind  of  man.  Mathematics 
can  go  no  further  than  to  attempt  to  analyze  these 
fundamental  axioms,  and  to  make  certain  that  they 
are  really  ultimate  and  cannot  be  shown  to  follow  fron? 
any  simpler  notions. 

Hence,  because  in  mathematics  we  have  to  start  with 
certain  terms  undefined,  and  because  we  have  to  assume 
that  certain  beliefs  are  true,  Bertrand  Russell  has  de¬ 
fined  that  study  as  “the  science  in  which  we  never  know 
what  we  are  talking  about  nor  whether  what  we  are  say¬ 
ing  is  true.”  We  are  dealing  with  abstractions  from  our 
world,  not  with  that  world  as  we  actually  experience  it, 
and  we  can  never  prove,  as  the  mathematician  proves 
his  propositions  that  the  world  in  which  we  live  is  any¬ 
thing  like  that  described  by  such  abstract  thinking. 

Hence  we  find  that,  while  those  who  have  seen  in 
mathematics  the  ideal  of  knowledge  thoroughly  and 
conclusively  tested  are  right,  that  certainty  is  possi¬ 
ble  only  because  we  first  put  it  into  our  definitions.  It 
is  a  certainty  within  a  highly  abstracted  realm,  not  a 
certainty  in  the  world  we  experience.  To  ascertain  just 
how  valid  any  mathematical  formula  will  be  as  an  inter¬ 
pretation  of  the  way  things  are  in  the  world,  we  have  to 
rely  upon  the  tests  that  repeated  experiment  and  verifi¬ 
cation  will  bring,  just  as  does  any  other  scientist.  We 
have  abundant  proof  that  in  this  sense  mathematics  is 
marvelously  borne  out  as  describing  accurately  certain 
aspects  of  our  experience.  And  that  is  why  it  is  the 
wonderful  tool  and  instrument  that  it  is  in  the  hands  of 
the  scientist  who  knows  how  to  use  it.  As  Descartes 
said  three  hundred  years  ago,  nature  is  like  a  great  ci¬ 
pher  to  be  solved  by  man.  We  invent  a  key  to  the  code. 


116 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


and  we  find  that  the  interpretation  makes  excellent 
sense.  No  wonder  we  feel  proud  of  our  ingenuity  and 
satisfied  with  our  key. 

Section  6.  The  Essentials  of  Good  Mathematical 

Thinking 

We  can  now  summarize  the  characteristics  we  have 
discovered  that  good  mathematical  thinking  must  pos¬ 
sess.  Since  so  much  depends  on  our  initial  assumptions, 
we  must  be  exceedingly  careful  to  make  them  as  clear  as 
possible.  Our  definitions  must  be  absolutely  clear-cut, 
that  we  may  know  exactly  what  kind  of  things  we  are 
talking  about.  We  must  know  precisely  what  our  as¬ 
sumptions  are,  and  both  definitions  and  assumptions 
must  express  the  essential  nature  of  the  realm  in  which 
we  are  operating ;  that  is,  it  must  be  possible  to  prove  from 
them  the  entire  body  of  beliefs  making  up  the  science. 
This  goal,  it  must  be  said,  has  not  yet  been  fully  reached 
by  the  mathematician.  With  these  tools  at  our  disposal 
it  will  be  possible  for  us  to  test  thoroughly  every  math¬ 
ematical  belief,  and  to  make  certain  that  it  follows  from 
the  assumptions  with  which  we  started.  But  to  dis¬ 
cover  whether  there  is  in  reality  anything  like  those 
ideal  entities  about  which  we  have  proved  so  many 
things,  we  must  adopt  an  entirely  different  kind  of  rea¬ 
soning.  That  is  the  province  of  the  careful  experimen¬ 
tation  whose  principles  we  have  already  examined.  Ail 
that  mathematics  can  do  is  to  tell  us  that,  if  certain 
things  are  true,  then  we  can  be  quite  certain  of  the  truth 
of  other  things.  It  remains  purely  hypothetical.  But 
as  such  it  is  an  invaluable  instrument  for  the  deductive 
elaboration  of  the  various  theories  and  suggestions  that 
occur  as  explanations  to  the  scientist.  It  is  with  the 


DEDUCTION  IN  MATHEMATICS 


117 


nature  of  these  explanations  themselves  that  our  next 
chapter  will  deal. 

QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  Give  several  simple  examples  of  the  relation  of  implication. 

2.  What  part  did  mathematics  play  in  the  reasoning  of  Copernicus? 
Of  Bessel?  Of  Adams?  In  the  establishment  of  the  molecular  the¬ 
ory?  In  Pasteur’s  experiments?  What  is  the  significance  of  the 
difference? 

3.  Give  several  illustrations  of  the  sciences  that  have  become  more 
mathematical  as  they  have  become  more  highly  developed. 

4.  “If  two  lines  intersect  one  another,  the  vertical  angles  formed  at 
their  intersection  are  equal.” 

a.  How  do  we  know  this  to  be  true?  By  actual  measurement? 

b.  If  it  is  true,  what  other  presuppositions  must  be  assumed  as  true? 

c.  How  do  we  know  that  these  presuppositions  are  true? 

d.  What  sort  of  thing  are  we  talking  about  in  this  proposition? 
Something  that  can  be  seen  and  touched? 

5.  Why  did  the  proof  of  the  rope-stretchers  fail  to  satisfy  Pythagoras? 

6.  In  the  proof  given  in  Section  3,  what  do  we  mean  when  we  say  that 
it  is  not  an  accident  that  the  sum  of  the  squares  upon  the  legs  is 
equal  to  the  square  upon  the  hypotenuse? 

7.  Why  cannot  the  isosceles  right  triangle  of  which  we  prove  the  prop¬ 
osition  in  Section  3  be  regarded  as  an  actually  existent  triangle? 

8.  Write  out  the  proof  given  in  Section  4  in  its  complete  form,  includ¬ 
ing  every  presupposition. 

9.  Give  an  example  of  a  similar  object  in  some  other  realm  which  could 
not  possibly  exist,  and  which  yet  follows  definite  laws  of  its  own. 

10.  Distinguish  carefully  between  the  two  very  different  types  of  test¬ 
ing  in  the  sciences  of  biology  and  of  mathematics. 

11.  Give  an  example  of  a  chain  of  implications  that  follow  necessarily, 
but  whose  initial  assumption  is  false. 

12.  What  enables  us  to  prove  things  about  every  triangle,  when  we  can 
never  experience  or  even  imagine  all  of  them? 

13.  How  do  we  know  that  mathematical  proofs  will  everywhere  and  al¬ 
ways  be  valid?  What  exactly  is  it  about  their  nature  that  guaran¬ 
tees  this  certainty? 

14.  Define  briefly:  axiom;  definition;  implication. 

15.  Why  have  mathematicians  given  up  the  explanation  of  common- 
sense  that  axioms  are  simple  self-evident  truths? 

16.  Why  have  mathematicians  abandoned  the  explanation  that  we  de¬ 
rive  our  axioms  from  experience?  What  can  experience  teach  us 
about  them? 

17.  What  is  the  prevalent  opinion  amongst  mathematicians  as  to  where 
our  axioms  do  come  from? 


118 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


18.  Explain  carefully  the  two  parts  in  Russell’s  definition  of  mathe¬ 
matics  in  Section  5.  Do  you  think  this  is  a  good  definition? 

19.  What  method  must  we  employ  to  determine  the  applicability  of  a 
mathematical  proposition  to  our  physical  universe?  Give  a  sim¬ 
ple  example. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

On  the  Proposition: 

Euclid,  or  any  textbook  in  plane  geometry. 

On  the  Contemporary  Theory  of  the  Foundations  of  Geometry: 

H.  Poincar6,  Science  and  Hypothesis.  Walter  Scott,  1905. 

Science  and  Method.  Scribner’s  Sons,  1915. 

D.  Hilbert,  Foundations  of  Geometry.  Open  Court,  1902. 

O.  Veblen  and  J.  W.  Young,  Projective  Geometry ,  Vol.  I.  Ginn  & 
Company,  1910. 

On  the  History  of  Geometry: 

F.  Cajori,  History  of  Mathematics.  The  Macmillan  Company,  1906. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  FUNCTION  OF  EXPLANATION  IN  PHYSICS 

Section  1 .  Explanation  by  Analogy 

We  have  now  taken  up  in  turn  each  of  the  stages  of  the 
typical  act  of  reflective  thinking,  and  have  examined  the 
methods  by  which  the  scientist  guards  against  the  possi¬ 
bility  of  error  at  each  step  and  arrives  at  the  truth  he  is 
seeking.  We  have  followed  his  hypothesis  from  its  birth 
among  the  multitude  of  facts  and  observations  he  has 
made,  through  its  gradual  shaping  and  testing  in  ac¬ 
cordance  with  the  criteria  of  a  good  hypothesis  and  the 
five  inductive  canons,  and  its  complex  deductive  elabo¬ 
ration  at  the  hands  of  the  mathematician.  It  now  re¬ 
mains  to  consider  a  little  more  closely  the  nature  of  the 
scientist’s  aim  and  the  extent  of  his  achievement  in  mar¬ 
shaling  hosts  of  facts  under  the  banner  of  a  scientific 
law.  The  discovery  of  these  causal  laws  we  have  as¬ 
sumed  to  be  the  chief  task  of  the  investigator;  now  we 
must  ask  just  what  these  causal  laws  really  tell  us.  Al¬ 
though  it  is  in  their  ability  to  serve  as  instruments  of 
prediction  that  the  practical  utility  of  these  laws  con¬ 
sists,  their  essential  value  to  the  inquiring  mind  lies  in 
enabling  it  to  understand  the  world  in  which  it  finds  it¬ 
self,  and  to  explain  its  events. 

Because  this  function  of  explaining  our  world  to  us  is  so 
fundamental  to  science,  and  because  so  many  men  have 
been  led  astray  through  not  knowing  just  what  scien¬ 
tists  were  attempting  to  do  in  this  explaining,  we  shall  se¬ 
lect  from  the  great  realm  over  which  the  physicist  holds 


120 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


sway  this  one  problem  of  the  nature  and  meaning  of 
scientific  explanation.  Through  the  consideration  of  a 
single  phenomenon  to  be  explained,  we  shall  show  how 
physicists  have  come  gradually  to  adopt  certain  beliefs 
about  that  thing  because  they  feel  that  they  are  thus 
“explaining”  it  much  better  than  they  formerly  did. 

When  a  man  has  beheld  something  new  and  strange, 
and  returns  to  inform  his  friends,  they  ask  him  eagerly, 
“Tell  us  all  about  it.  Explain  it  to  us.  What  is  it 
like?”  And  in  his  explanation  he  does  tell  them  what 
it  is  like,  for  he  describes  it  in  terms  of  the  things  with 
which  they  are  already  familiar.  Nor  does  the  scientist 
do  otherwise.  When  he  seeks  to  explain  a  certain  phe¬ 
nomenon,  he  too  sets  out  to  tell  us  what  it  is  like.  If  it  is 
some  newly  observed  occurrence,  he  seeks  to  show  that 
it  is  really  like  some  other  occurrence  with  which  we  are 
already  familiar,  and  whose  manner  of  taking  place  we 
already  know.  Were  the  average  scientist  to  formulate 
his  ideal,  it  would  probably  be  that  of  showing  that  all 
the  complex  occurrences  in  our  world  are  at  bottom  not 
dissimilar  and  different  events,  but  that  fundamentally 
they  are  all  special  cases  of  some  more  general  type 
of  happening.  Did  we  know  the  laws  describing  how 
this  one  great  type  of  event  takes  place,  and  could  we 
show  that  everything  that  comes  to  pass  really  falls  un¬ 
der  these  laws,  then,  so  far  as  most  scientists  are  con¬ 
cerned,  we  should  have  explained  everything  in  the 
world.  Thus  most  psychologists  are  seeking  to  “re¬ 
duce”  the  mental  phenomena  with  which  they  deal  to 
the  more  general  laws  of  physiology,  and  thus  “ex¬ 
plain”  the  unfamiliar  mental  happenings  in  terms  of 
familiar  physiological  principles;  most  physiologists  are 
seeking  to  “reduce”  their  physiological  laws  to  special 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


121 


cases  of  the  more  general  and  better  known  laws  of 
chemistry  and  physics ;  while  the  chemists  and  the  phys¬ 
icists  are  busily  engaged  in  the  attempt  to  show  that 
all  the  phenomena  of  their  sciences  ultimately  depend 
solely  upon  the  laws  of  matter  and  energy  —  perhaps 
of  energy  alone.  For  that  is  what  they  mean  by  a  ex¬ 
plaining. n 

Of  course,  the  scientists  have  not  yet  been  success¬ 
ful  in  their  attempt  to  “explain”  all  phenomena  as 
essentially  happenings  in  the  domain  of  the  science  of 
mechanics ;  many,  in  fact,  feel  that  this  is  probably  an 
impossible  task,  while  some  few  even  question  its  desira¬ 
bility.  Y et  it  remains  the  ideal  of  what  the  average  scien¬ 
tist  would  like  to  do  if  he  could,  for  he  feels  that  he  can 
“understand”  any  type  of  occurrence  only  when  he  has 
shown  that,  instead  of  being  something  very  complex 
and  unique,  it  is  really  the  combination  of  things  that  are 
very  simple  and  universal.  Thus  the  astronomer,  when 
confronted  with  the  millions  of  quite  unrelated  tiny  or¬ 
bits  of  the  stars,  even  though  he  might  be  able  to  work 
out  on  the  epicycle  theory  the  positions  where  they 
could  be  depended  upon  to  be  at  any  particular  time, 
could  never  on  that  theory  feel  that  he  understood  why 
the  stars  had  such  curious  habits.  He  could  take  ac¬ 
count  of  the  observed  facts,  but  he  would  be  able  to  ex¬ 
plain  them  only  when  he  realized  that  those  habits  de¬ 
pended  upon  the  simple  orbital  motion  of  the  earth 
about  the  sun.  All  those  complexly  varying  motions 
would  then  be  seen  to  be  merely  the  result  of  the  simple 
path  of  the  earth  and  the  direction  whence  the  light 
came. 

Now  in  the  world  with  which  the  physicist  deals,  the 
profusion  of  different  kinds  of  occurrence  is  far  greater. 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


There  is  an  almost  infinite  number  of  different  sorts  of 
physical  objects,  water,  air,  earth,  trees,  houses,  trains, 
animals,  cats,  granite  hills,  snow,  mosquitoes.  Each  of 
these  things  differs  from  all  the  rest  in  fundamental  qual¬ 
ities.  Some  are  cold,  some  are  hot,  some  are  brown,  some 
are  slimy,  some  are  loud,  some  are  heavy,  some  are  brit¬ 
tle,  some  are  magnetic.  All  these  things  are  constantly 
changing  their  colors,  their  sounds,  their  temperatures, 
their  shapes,  their  weights,  their  positions.  Amidst  all 
this  multiplicity  of  differences,  how  are  we  to  find  any¬ 
thing  that  we  can  count  upon?  How  are  we  to  explain 
anything,  to  understand  anything  in  all  this  welter? 

To  the  physicist,  this  hurly-burly  does  not  seem  to  be 
a  confusion.  Rather  it  seems  the  soul  of  orderliness  and 
regularity.  He  has  discovered  so  much  of  order  in  this 
seeming  disorder  that  he  can  calmly  assure  us  that  there 
is  none  of  these  things  that  he  does  not  in  some  measure 
understand.  For  nearly  every  change  that  we  observe 
he  is  ready  with  an  explanation  showing  just  why  that 
change  took  place,  and  just  what  change  will  occur  next. 
Does  a  hunter  elevate  his  gun  and  bring  down  a  duck? 
Then  our  physicist  can  tell  us  exactly  the  path  of  the  shot, 
the  fall  of  the  bird.  Does  the  sixteen-inch  gun  discharge 
a  shell  at  an  invisible  target?  He  can  tell  us  just  where 
it  will  land,  how  long  it  will  take,  how  hot  it  will  be,  how 
great  a  force  drove  it,  and  almost  any  other  question 
we  may  choose  to  ask.  Does  something  go  wrong  with 
the  storage  battery  in  our  car?  He  can  tell  us  what 
has  been  happening  in  that  little  black  box,  and  what 
the  trouble  is.  Most  of  the  events  of  nature  find  him 
unsurprised,  for  he  knows  what  to  expect.  For  nearly 
every  one  he  can  give  some  kind  of  reason  and  explana¬ 
tion  -  He  has  found  that  things  happen  in  certain  fixed 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


123 


and  invariable  ways,  and  that  when  he  has  discovered 
what  those  ways  are,  he  has  the  key  to  every  phenome¬ 
non  that  belongs  in  that  class.  For  after  all  the  com¬ 
plexities  of  nature  do  seem  intelligible  in  terms  of  a 
comparatively  few  simple  elementary  processes,  and  the 
physical  laws  which  explain  many  of  her  aspects  and 
enable  us  to  calculate  them  with  uncanny  accuracy, 
could  readily  be  formulated  in  the  compass  of  a  small 
manual.  And  every  new  discovery  is  a  further  simplifi¬ 
cation,  until  it  seems  almost  possible  that  the  ideal  of  the 
physicist,  some  all-comprehensive  formula  from  which 
could  be  predicted  every  possible  event  in  the  world  of 
nature,  may  not  be  absolutely  unattainable. 

Whether  he  reach  such  a  goal  or  not,  it  is  in  achieving 
such  explanations  that  he  has  won  his  greatest  triumphs. 
One  by  one  he  has  been  reducing  complex  happenings  to 
simpler  ones,  and  involved  laws  and  formulas  to  simpler 
and  more  general  forms.  We  shall  take  a  single  exam¬ 
ple  to  show  the  kind  of  thing  that  he  has  aimed  at,  and 
the  wonderful  success  that  has  crowned  his  efforts. 
Then  we  shall  examine  more  closely  into  just  how  the 
new  scientific  explanation  “  explains  ”  the  events  with 
which  it  deals,  and  what  that  “  explanation  ”  really 
means. 

Section  2.  The  Scholastic  Theory  of  the  Nature  of 

Physical  Objects 

It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  during  the  Middle 
Ages  the  world  had  no  scientific  explanations  of  those 
happenings  with  which  the  modern  physicist  deals.  To 
the  greatest  minds  as  well  as  to  the  average  man  the 
world  of  natural  objects  was  just  what  it  seemed  to  be 
ai>d  nothing  more.  Every  object  in  the  physical  world 


124  REFLECTIVE  THINKING 

was  just  an  object  of  a  certain  character,  quite  distinct 
from  all  the  other  objects.  Each  was  a  real  substance; 
that  is,  in  the  technical  definition,  each  was  able  to  exist 
by  itself.  Each  substance  possessed  certain  qualities. 
It  was  green,  it  was  flexible,  it  was  damp,  it  was  of  a  cer¬ 
tain  size,  it  weighed  so  many  pounds.  If  any  of  these 
qualities  changed,  the  object  was  no  longer  the  same 
substance.  Substances  frequently  disappeared  alto¬ 
gether,  as  when  one  applied  a  flame  to  a  piece  of  wood. 
The  wood  vanished,  leaving  only  a  little  of  a  new  sub¬ 
stance,  ashes,  in  its  place.  Or  again  substances  fre¬ 
quently  just  happened,  as  when  one  found  dew  where  a 
few  moments  before  there  had  been  none.  These  quali¬ 
tative  differences  were  real.  Ice  was  one  substance, 
water  another,  steam  a  third.  If  you  heated  water,  it 
would  be  transformed  into  steam,  an  entirely  new  kind 
of  substance.  If  you  mixed  copper  and  zinc,  you  got  a 
new  substance,  brass,  that  was  gold  in  so  far  as  its  color 
went.  If  you  could  thus  transform  copper  into  gold  in 
color,  why  not  in  its  other  qualities  also?  Nothing  was 
more  common  than  the  everyday  transmutation  of  wood 
into  ashes,  or  of  water  into  steam  through  the  addition 
of  two  other  substances,  flame  or  fire,  and  heat,  respec¬ 
tively. 

This  glorification  of  common  sense  served  the  Middle 
Ages  well  enough,  because  they  were  not  very  much  con¬ 
cerned  with  either  understanding  or  predicting  physical 
phenomena.  But  so  soon  as  men  came  to  feel  an  inter¬ 
est  in  doing  this  latter  thing,  the  method  that  the  scho¬ 
lastics  had  developed  for  handling  objects  broke  down, 
because  it  explained  nothing.  For  the  scholastic,  noth¬ 
ing  was  just  like  anything  else.  Each  kind  of  object 
possessed  its  own  character  and  individuality,  each  was 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


125 


qualitatively  different  from  its  fellows.  This  way  of 
looking  at  objects  had  been  developed  primarily  for 
dealing  with  human  beings,  where  character  and  in¬ 
dividuality  are  obviously  the  most  important  things 
to  be  considered.  But  unfortunately  for  the  physical 
science  of  the  Middle  Ages,  methods  admirable  in  deal¬ 
ing  with  human  relations  bear  little  fruit  when  applied 
to  material  objects,  and  the  heavy  hand  of  Aristotle’s 
ethical  physics  lay  for  fifteen  hundred  years  upon  nat¬ 
ural  science,  and  drove  out  other  hypotheses  that  would 
have  been  much  more  successful.  One  could  make  no 
statements  about  more  than  one  class  of  objects,  be¬ 
cause  between  classes  there  were  no  relations  of  similar¬ 
ity  that  would  lend  themselves  to  generalization.  Cold 
water  was  one  kind  of  thing,  hot  water  another,  and  the 
difference  was  due  to  the  presence  in  the  case  of  the 
latter  of  a  new  substance  or  thing,  heat.  Why  did 
heat  make  things  hot?  Because  heat  possessed  very 
strong  calorific  qualities.  Why,  in  the  classic  instance, 
did  opium  put  one  to  sleep?  Because  of  its  well-known 
dormitive  qualities.  The  operation  of  any  particular 
substance  was  always  explained  as  due  to  something  in 
that  substance  which  was  unique  to  it,  and  which  made 
it  do  exactly  what  it  did. 

Modern  scientists  are  accustomed  to  laugh  at  these 
pseudo-  “ explanations”  as  mere  attempts  to  cover  igno¬ 
rance.  That  is  because  they  do  not  realize  what  the  scho¬ 
lastics  were  doing.  They  were  pointing  to  and  recording 
observed  facts,  and  the  various  qualities  with  which 
they  saddled  unoffending  materials  were  scientific  labels 
indicating  the  presence  of  those  facts.  This  observation 
of  facts  is  the  indispensable  prerequisite  to  any  scientific 
explanation  of  them.  Until  you  know  that  heat  makes 


126 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


an  object  hot,  you  can  never  hope  to  explain  why  it  per¬ 
forms  that  function.  Without  knowing  what  the  case  is, 
you  can  scarcely  show  what  else  it  is  like.  These  ob¬ 
served  facts,  as  we  saw  in  astronomy,  heap  up  for  cen¬ 
turies  before  men  can  explain  and  account  for  them. 
Every  new  science  has  multitudes  of  just  such  facts, 
neatly  labeled  and  awaiting  the  pathfinder  who  will  em¬ 
brace  them  all  in  one  great  hypothesis.  Such  labeling  is 
dangerous  only  if  we  forget  that  it  is  merely  labeling, 
and  assume  that  the  label  itself  is  a  real  explanation. 
Thus,  for  example,  many  psychologists  to-day,  when 
asked  to  explain  why  human  beings  like  to  be  in  each 
other’s  company,  and  dislike  solitude,  answer  readily, 
“Oh,  that  is  due  to  the  gregarious  instinct.”  If  they 
imagine  that  they  have  given  a  real  explanation,  that 
they  have  clarified  a  complex  phenomenon  by  reducing 
it  to  one  simpler,  they  are  in  the  position  of  those  who 
explain  the  heat-giving  nature  of  heat  as  due  to  its 
calorific  qualities.  But  if  they  say,  “We  don’t  know 
why  human  beings  behave  in  that  particular  way,  but 
we  know  that  they  do,  and  we  think  that  fact  so  impor¬ 
tant  that  we  will  call  it  the  gregarious  instinct,”  then 
they  are  paving  the  way  for  the  pathfinder  who  is  to 
overcome  their  ignorance. 

Section  3 .  The  Kinetic  Theory  of  Matter 

In  striking  contrast  to  the  theory  of  the  scholastics, 
that  each  physical  object  is  qualitatively  different  from 
all  the  other  kinds,  and  observes  its  own  particular  hab¬ 
its  in  accordance  with  its  own  individual  nature,  is  the 
view  known  as  the  kinetic  theory.  It  assumes  that  all 
objects  are  composed  of  a  great  number  of  tiny  particles 
or  molecules,  of  a  certain  small  and  definite  number  of 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


127 


kinds,  and  that  the  marvelous  qualitative  diversity  we 
find  in  our  world  is  due  to  the  different  ways  in  which 
these  particles  are  combined,  or  are  behaving.  Thus,  if 
this  hypothesis  be  true,  we  have  a  really  scientific  ex¬ 
planation  of  multitudes  of  the  phenomena  we  observe, 
because  we  can  interpret  them  as  consequences  of  cer¬ 
tain  simple  relations  obtaining  between  these  particles. 
The  laws  describing  the  actions  of  these  particles  we 
already  know,  for  they  are  the  same  as  those  governing 
the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  We  are  familiar 
with  what  happens  when  two  billiard  balls  strike  each 
other.  If  we  can  show  that  all  the  complex  phenomena 
of  gases  and  liquids  and  solids  and  pressure  and  heat, 
and  many  others,  can  be  treated  as  if  they  were  cases  of 
a  certain  number  of  billiard  balls  of  a  certain  size  strik¬ 
ing  each  other  at  a  certain  velocity  and  with  a  certain 
frequency,  we  have  achieved  a  marvelous  result  in  show¬ 
ing  that  all  these  varied  events  are  really  like  the  me¬ 
chanical  action  and  reaction  with  which  we  are  already 
familiar.  We  can  apply  mathematical  formula?  to  me¬ 
chanical  motions,  and  predict  with  the  utmost  exacti¬ 
tude  exactly  what  will  occur  in  a  given  case.  And  just 
in  so  far  as  we  can  show  that  different  temperatures, 
different  pressures,  different  forms  of  matter,  different 
phenomena  of  all  sorts,  are  really  dependent  upon  the 
different  velocities  with  which  our  tiny  billiard  balls  are 
traveling,  we  can  make  similar  predictions  about  them. 
We  have  attained  a  real  explanation,  because  we  have 
succeeded  in  reducing  happenings  that  we  did  not  under¬ 
stand,  and  that  were  qualitatively  different,  and  hence 
not  susceptible  of  mathematical  or  quantitative  han¬ 
dling,  to  happenings  the  laws  of  which  we  do  know,  and 
which,  since  they  depend  upon  quantitative  differences 


1&8 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


in  velocity,  we  can  handle  by  means  of  mathematical 
formulae.  Thus,  if  we  know  that  water  is  composed  of 
certain  molecules,  and  that,  when  these  are  vibrating  at 
certain  rates,  it  remains  a  liquid,  but  that,  when,  in 
general,  the  rate  of  vibration  falls  below  a  certain  level, 
it  becomes  a  solid,  ice,  and  when  the  rate  rises  above  a 
certain  level,  it  becomes  a  gas,  steam,  we  have  really 
explained  these  changes  as  we  never  could  have  had  we 
assumed  the  difference  to  be  due  to  the  addition  or  sub¬ 
traction  of  a  substance,  heat,  and  the  changes  to  be  real 
transmutations. 

The  aim,  then,  of  the  kinetic  theory  is  to  give  a  math¬ 
ematical  account  in  terms  of  the  mechanical  action  of 
the  molecules  of  which  matter  is  composed,  of  all  the 
non-chemical  and  non-electrical  properties  of  things. 
It  endeavors  to  reduce  all  objects  to  the  fundamental 
elements  of  matter  and  energy,  and  to  interpret  the 
various  changes  that  they  undergo  in  terms  of  the  laws 
of  motion,  or  mechanics,  of  geometry,  and  of  arithmetic. 
Hence  it  is  the  attempt  to  find  one  simple  explanation 
for  all  those  properties  which  are  not  chemical  or  elec¬ 
trical.  The  reason  for  this  exception  of  the  two  latter 
kinds  of  properties  is  that  the  molecule,  which  is  the 
ultimate  element  with  which  the  physicist  is  dealing,  is 
itself  complex,  made  up  of  atoms  which  are  in  turn 
composed  of  electrons,  and  that  while  in  most  cases  we 
can  disregard  the  particular  chemical  kind  of  molecule, 
and  treat  of  “ matter”  indiscriminately,  in  certain  cases 
we  must  take  into  consideration  the  particular  sort 
of  molecule  with  which  we  are  working.  Thus  the 
chemical  properties  of  objects  are  dependent  upon  the 
internal  nature  and  structure  of  the  molecules,  whereas 
the  electrical  properties  seem  to  depend  rather  upon  the 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


129 


structure  of  the  atom  and  its  component  electrons.  Just 
in  so  far  as  the  scientist  has  not  succeeded  in  eliminating 
all  qualitative  differences,  and  hence  just  in  so  far  as  he 
must  know  with  which  chemical  element  or  combination 
of  elements  he  is  dealing  in  order  to  explain  his  results,  he 
has  not  succeeded  in  his  aim  of  finding  one  simple  princi¬ 
ple  of  explanation  for  all  phenomena.  It  is,  however, 
very  significant  that  most  chemists  at  the  present  time 
feel  sure  that  the  atoms  themselves,  which  we  used  to 
think  were  qualitatively  distinct  elements,  of  some 
eighty  odd  varieties,  are  really  combinations  of  a  simpler 
thing,  the  electron,  and  that  these  differences  of  kind  are 
explicable  as  merely  differences  of  quantitative  structure. 
The  ultimate  constituent  of  matter,  so  far  as  we  are  able 
to  discover  at  present,  is  the  electron  —  or  perhaps  the 
positive  nucleus  of  the  atom,  the  “proton”  —  and  here 
at  last  scientists  seem  to  have  discovered  a  thing  that 
is  all  of  one  sort.  It  is  already  the  dream  of  many  scien¬ 
tists  that,  when  we  have  once  discovered  the  laws  de¬ 
scribing  the  nature  and  behavior  of  the  electron,  we  shall 
have  a  principle  of  explanation  that  will  enable  us  to 
understand  every  possible  occurrence  in  the  world  of 
nature. 

However,  it  would  take  us  too  far  afield  to  enter  into 
this  question  of  the  component  parts  of  molecules,  and 
hence  we  shall  restrict  ourselves  in  our  example  to  a 
phenomenon  which  the  kinetic  hypothesis,  without 
drawing  on  any  further  theories  about  atoms  or  elec¬ 
trons,  enables  us  to  explain  beautifully. 

Section  4.  The  Nature  of  Heat 

The  fact  that  some  bodies  are  hotter  than  others,  and 
that  the  same  body  can  vary  greatly  in  temperature,  was 


190 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


one  of  the  first  observations  that  men  made.  They  also 
soon  found  that,  if  heat  is  applied  to  most  bodies,  those 
bodies  expand,  and  that,  if  you  add  enough  heat,  solids 
will  be  changed  into  liquids  and  liquids  into  gases.  Why 
is  this  so?  How  can  we  explain  these  events?  Just 
what  is  this  thing  “heat”?  From  the  earliest  times, 
men  sought  an  explanation  of  these  happenings.  And 
quite  naturally  they  assumed  that  “heat”  was  a  thing, 
a  substance,  a  fluid  like  other  fluids,  that  possessed  the 
qualities  we  associate  with  “  hotness”  and  that  caused 
certain  changes  in  bodies  to  which  it  was  added.  It 
could  penetrate,  expand,  dissolve  into  fluids,  and  dissi¬ 
pate  into  gases.  This  heat  fluid  was  by  early  physicists 
given  the  name  of  “caloric.”  Now  this  theory  is  a  real 
explanation  of  the  various  phenomena  connected  with 
heat,  because  it  does  interpret  them  in  accordance  with 
certain  other  types  of  event  with  which  we  are  already 
familiar.  Adding  caloric  to  a  body  will  naturally  in¬ 
crease  its  size,  just  as  adding  any  fluid  to  another  in¬ 
creases  the  total  volume.  It  will  turn  solids  into  new 
liquids,  just  as  water  will  turn  salt  into  brine.  With 
these  latter  occurrences  we  are  familiar,  and,  when  heat 
is  explained  as  working  like  them,  we  can  understand 
them  better. 

This  was  as  far  as  men  were  able  to  go  so  long  as  they 
had  no  means  of  measuring  quantitatively  differences  in 
temperature.  It  is  a  testimony  to  the  complete  de¬ 
pendence  of  science  upon  mathematical  measurement 
that  no  science  of  heat  could  develop  until  the  thermom¬ 
eter  was  invented,  about  1612.  Strictly  speaking,  of 
course,  we  cannot  measure  “hotness,”  any  more  than  we 
can  measure  any  other  quality .  We  cannot  tell  how 
much  hotter  we  feel  to-day  than  we  did  yesterday.  We 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


131 


can  only  measure  the  results  of  heat  in  expanding  mer¬ 
cury,  alcohol,  or  some  other  fluid.  But  once  we  have  in¬ 
vented  a  thermometer,  and  can  take  exact  measure¬ 
ments  of  these  results,  we  can  proceed  to  establish  defi¬ 
nite  quantitative  relations;  and  so  soon  as  the  physicists 
did  do  this,  they  found  a  number  of  phenomena  that 
the  caloric  or  fluid  theory  of  heat  had  great  difficulty  in 
solving. 

Most  important  were  the  heat  of  compression,  and  the 
heat  of  friction.  When  you  compress  a  gas  it  becomes 
much  hotter  than  before,  as  any  one  who  has  ever 
pumped  up  a  tire  knows.  Where  does  this  heat  come 
from?  Not  from  outside,  as  in  most  other  cases  of  a 
rise  in  temperature,  because  the  surroundings  do  not 
become  cooler,  as  they  would  if  some  caloric  passed  into 
the  gas.  It  must  come  from  inside  the  gas  itself,  and 
hence,  if  caloric  is  a  fluid,  it  must  have  been  there  all 
along  without  our  knowing  it.  Similarly,  where  does 
the  heat  that  appears  when  two  bodies  are  rubbed  to- 
gether  come  from?  It  also  must  have  been  hidden  in 
the  bodies.  If  caloric  is  fluid,  it  must  be  able  to  lie  la¬ 
tent  or  hidden  within  bodies  on  occasion.  The  explana¬ 
tion  which  the  calorists  offered  of  the  appearance  of  heat 
on  friction  or  compression  was  that  some  of  this  “la¬ 
tent”  caloric  was  squeezed  or  ground  out  of  the  bodies 
concerned  and  became  “sensible”  or  apparent.  Ob¬ 
viously,  if  such  was  the  case,  if  you  rubbed  long  enough 
you  would  eventually  reach  a  limit  to  the  caloric  you 
could  rub  out,  because  the  supply  could  hardly  be  infi¬ 
nite.  In  a  work  published  in  1798  Benjamin  Thomp¬ 
son,  Count  Rumford,  described  how  he  endeavored  to 
find  how  much  he  could  extract.  He  placed  a  metal 
cannon  in  a  box  containing  water,  and,  by  the  friction 


132 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


of  a  blunt  revolving  borer  driven  by  horse-power,  the 
water  was  heated  to  boiling  in  two  and  a  half  hours. 
There  seemed  no  limit  to  the  caloric  he  could  produce. 
He  exclaimed,  “What  is  heat?  Is  there  any  such 
thing  as  a  caloric  fluid?  .  .  .  Anything  which  any  in¬ 
sulated  body,  or  system  of  bodies,  can  continue  to  fur¬ 
nish  without  limitation,  cannot  possibly  be  a  material 
substance;  and  it  appears  to  me  to  be  extremely  difficult, 
if  not  quite  impossible,  to  form  any  distinct  idea  of  any¬ 
thing,  capable  of  being  excited,  and  communicated,  in 
the  manner  the  heat  was  excited  and  communicated  in 
these  experiments,  except  it  be  motion.” 

The  next  year  Sir  Humphry  Davy  performed  an  even 
more  conclusive  experiment.  A  considerable  amount 
of  heat  must  be  applied  to  ice  in  order  to  melt  it,  so  that 
on  the  caloric  theory  water  contains  a  much  greater 
quantity  of  caloric  fluid  than  does  ice:  that  is,  ice  in  it¬ 
self  does  not  contain  enough  caloric  to  melt  it.  Davy 
rubbed  two  blocks  of  ice  together  by  clock-work  in  a 
vacuum,  and  succeeded  in  melting  them  easily.  On  the 
fluid  theory  the  caloric  could  only  have  come  from  the 
ice,  and  it  was  an  observed  fact  that  ice  did  not  contain 
enough  heat  to  melt  itself.  Both  of  these  experiments, 
it  may  be  noted,  were  applications  of  the  Method  of 
Difference. 

Just  what  had  these  two  experiments  proved?  They 
pointed  out  two  observed  facts  about  heat  that  the  cal¬ 
oric  fluid  hypothesis  was  unable  to  account  for.  When 
dealing  with  them,  it  made  matters  more  difficult  rather 
than  easier  to  understand  for  one  to  assume  that  the  ac¬ 
tion  of  heat  wasdike  the  ordinary  action  of  a  fluid  added 
to  a  body.  Hence  they  conclusively  disproved  that  hy¬ 
pothesis.  But,  of  course,  they  could  not  establish  of 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION  1SS 

themselves  any  alternative  hypothesis.  So  far  as  the 
theory  of  heat  as  due  to  molecular  activity  could  explain 
these  two  observed  facts,  as  well  as  all  the  other  phe¬ 
nomena  of  heat,  it  was  a  better  hypothesis  than  its 
rival;  but  perhaps  still  another  was  even  better.  The 
establishment  of  the  kinetic  theory  depended  upon  fur¬ 
ther  experiments,  and,  significantly  enough,  these  were 
impossible  until  physicists  had  learned  enough  about  the 
behavior  of  gases  to  formulate  the  kinetic  hypothesis 
in  definite  quantitative  terms  capable  of  exact  verifica¬ 
tion.  Thus  again  does  physics  depend  upon  mathe¬ 
matics. 

The  honor  of  placing  the  kinetic  theory  of  heat 
upon  a  sound  experimental  basis  belongs  almost  exclu¬ 
sively  to  the  Englishman  J.  P.  Joule.  He  elaborated 
the  consequences  of  that  theory,  and  then  actual^  dis¬ 
covered  by  physical  measurements  in  his  laboratory  that 
those  consequences  did  take  place.  If  heat  is  not  a  fluid, 
but  is  rather  the  energy  of  molecular  motion  within  a 
body,  and  if  those  molecular  movements  take  place  in 
accordance  with  the  ordinary  mechanical  laws  of  motion, 
then,  when  mechanical  energy  is  expended  upon  a  body, 
say  through  pressure  upon  a  gas,  and  is  transformed  into 
heat,  or  the  increased  motion  of  the  molecules  within 
that  body,  the  energy  which  disappeared  in  the  act  of 
compression  should  exactly  equal  the  energy  which  ap¬ 
pears  in  the  increased  motion  of  the  molecules,  or  heat. 
Conversely,  the  energy  of  molecular  motion  which  dis¬ 
appears  when  a  gas  expands  again  (or  the  heat  which  it 
loses  on  expansion)  should  reappear  as  mechanical  work 
done  by  that  expansion.  For  on  the  molecular  theory 
we  are  dealing  not  with  two  different  kinds  of  energy,  me¬ 
chanical  energy,  or  the  ability  to  perform  work,  and  an 


134 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


energy  of  a  different  sort  entirely,  heat,  but  rather  with 
mechanical  energy  on  two  different  scales,  the  motion 
of  large  bodies,  and  the  motion  of  very  small  bodies,  or 
molecules.  In  other  words,  the  theory  could  not  be  re¬ 
garded  as  complete  until  it  had  been  shown  that,  in  the 
production  of  work  from  heat,  a  certain  quantity  of  heat 
disappeared,  and  ceased  to  exist  as  heat;  and  that  this 
quantity  was  the  same  as  that  which  could  be  generated 
by  the  expenditure  of  the  work  produced. 

This  actual  quantitative  determination  of  what  is 
called  the  “  mechanical  equivalent”  of  heat  was  the  task 
of  Joule,  and  in  experimentally  verifying  that  equiva¬ 
lence  he  conclusively  demonstrated  the  whole  kinetic 
theory  of  heat.  For  he  succeeded  in  showing  that  heat 
could  be  regarded  as  mechanical  motion  on  a  small  scale, 
and  that  it  obeyed  the  laws  of  all  motion.  To  this  end 
he  instituted  a  number  of  different  experiments.  He 
measured  the  heat  produced  by  the  expenditure  of  a 
certain  amount  of  electrical  energy,  and  found  that  it 
was  constant.  He  measured  the  heat  produced  by  the  ex¬ 
penditure  of  a  certain  amount  of  mechanical  energy  in 
compressing  a  gas,  and  found  that  it  was  exactly  equal 
to  the  heat  produced  by  the  same  amount  of  electrical 
energy.  He  found  also  that  that  same  amount  of  heat, 
when  converted  back  into  mechanical  energy,  produced 
the  amount  that  had  originally  been  expended  in  creating 
it.  He  found  that  the  results  so  obtained  tallied  exactly 
with  results  when  he  produced  heat  by  friction.  He  tried 
also  a  number  of  other  experiments,  varying  his  meth¬ 
ods  greatly  each  time,  and  in  every  case  he  established 
the  same  definite  ratio  between  the  amount  of  heat  and 
the  amount  of  work  performed.  The  great  value  of 
Joule’s  work  lay  in  the  variety  and  the  completeness  of 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


136 


the  experimental  evidence  he  brought  forth.  It  was 
not,  of  course,  sufficient  to  find  the  relation  between 
heat  and  mechanical  work  in  one  particular  case.  He 
had  to  show,  to  fulfill  the  requirements  of  the  Method  of 
Agreement,  that  the  same  relation  held  in  all  cases  that 
could  be  experimentally  examined,  and  that  the  “  ratio 
of  equivalence”  of  the  different  forms  of  energy,  meas¬ 
ured  in  very  different  ways,  was  independent  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  conversion  was  effected  and  of  the 
material  used.  Since  Joule’s  day  many  more  experi¬ 
ments  have  been  devised)  and  in  every  case  the  same  re¬ 
sult  has  been  secured. 

Why,  then,  did  physicists  adopt  the  kinetic  theory 
of  heat?  Because  they  found  that  they  could  thus  re¬ 
duce  all  the  different  phenomena  of  heat  to  a  single  sim¬ 
ple  basis,  the  energy  of  motion  of  the  molecules  compos¬ 
ing  bodies,  and  because  that  motion  was  itself  of  pre¬ 
cisely  the  same  nature,  and  obeyed  precisely  the  same 
laws  as  does  any  motion  in  the  universe.  It  is  a  marvel¬ 
ous  achievement  in  scientific  explanation  when  we  can 
confidently  assert  that  the  tremendous  movements  of 
the  heavenly  bodies  and  the  qualitative  differences  in 
temperature  of  the  tiniest  objects  are  both  alike,  and 
that  they  are  together  like  the  simple  and  easily  under¬ 
stood  and  predicted  movements  of  two  billiard  balls 
striking  each  other.  One  formula  will  describe  all  three. 
Surely  few  achievements  of  the  human  mind  are  worthy 
to  rank  with  such  a  feat! 

Of  course,  the  kinetic  theory  of  matter,  though  it 
was  originally  developed  as  an  explanation  of  heat,  does 
not  stop  with  that  phenomenon.  There  are  probably 
few  other  hypotheses  in  the  history  of  science  that  have 
proved  so  extremely  fruitful.  Men,  assuming  its  truth, 


136 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


have  made  detailed  calculations  about  what  must  then 
occur,  and  on  experimental  verification  have  made  mul¬ 
titudes  of  new  discoveries  as  to  the  nature  of  events. 
Nothing  has  as  yet  been  observed  that  has  not  already 
been  predicted  on  this  basis  with  uncanny  accuracy. 
Men  have  proceeded  to  measure  the  weight  of  the  mole¬ 
cules,  their  volume,  their  size,  their  speed,  the  distance 
they  travel,  the  number  of  collisions  a  second,  and  the 
number  actually  within  a  given  space.  Almost  the  only 
thing  the  physicist  cannot  tell  us  is  the  precise  shape  of 
the  molecules.  The  physicist  can  well-nigh  point  under 
the  microscope  to  actual  molecular  motions  themselves, 
and  enable  us  almost  to  see  the  molecules  in  their  vibra¬ 
tion;  for  he  can  show  us  in  the  so-called  “  Brownian 
Movement,”  the  irregular  and  jerky  motions  of  tiny 
particles  that  are  the  direct  result  of  the  terrific  bom¬ 
bardment  to  which  they  are  submitted  on  the  part  of 
the  molecules.  And  all  of  these  things  which  the  physi¬ 
cist,  basing  his  calculations  on  the  kinetic  theory,  has 
been  able  to  predict,  have  been  borne  out  exactly  by 
experiment  and  observation.  It  is  this  remarkable 
correlation  between  the  results  of  the  kinetic  theory 
and  the  experimentally  determined  facts  of  nature  that 
constitutes  the  real  “  proof  ”  of  the  theory. 

This,  then,  is  an  admirable  example  of  what  the  scien¬ 
tist  means  by  “ explanation,”  this  reduction  of  things  so 
qualitatively  different  as  the  varying  temperatures  and 
states  of  bodies  to  the  simple  terms  of  matter  and  the 
energy  of  motion.  But  just  what  has  he  done  in  this 
“explanation”  ?  What  has  he,  after  all,  proved  about 
heat?  What  have  we  the  right  to  expect  from  scientific 
explanation,  anyway?  In  how  far  and  in  what  way  is  it 
“valid”  ?  Is  it  the  only  possible  kind  of  “explanation”? 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


137 


All  of  these  questions  are  so  extremely  important  that 
we  shall  devote  our  concluding  section  to  a  considera¬ 
tion  of  the  problems  they  suggest. 

Section  5.  The  Nature  of  “ Explanation ” 

Just  what  has  the  physicist  accomplished  when  he  has 
“explained”  heat  as  a  form  of  molecular  energy?  This 
question  may  perhaps  appear  somewhat  unnecessary, 
for  most  of  us  would  feel  that  the  answer  was  obvious. 
Yet  upon  precisely  this  point  there  have  arisen  so  many 
misconceptions  and  misunderstandings,  and  so  many 
men,  both  laymen  and  scientists,  have  felt  firmly  con¬ 
vinced  that  they  have  accomplished  much  more  than 
they  actually  have,  that  it  is  extremely  important  that 
we  determine  clearly  the  exact  nature  of  the  scien¬ 
tist’s  achievement.  Nothing  unfortunately  is  more 
common  than  for  a  man  to  attempt  a  detailed  and  elab¬ 
orate  proof  of  some  hypothesis,  and  to  establish  that 
hypothesis  successfully,  and  then  suddenly  to  lose  en¬ 
tirely  all  of  his  critical  faculties  when  it  comes  to  inter¬ 
preting  the  meaning  and  significance  of  that  successfully 
tested  and  verified  theory.  This  latter  task  seems,  in 
fact,  usually  much  more  difficult  than  the  former,  and 
perhaps  there  are  many  more  men  who  can  place  an  hy¬ 
pothesis  upon  a  firm  foundation  than  there  are  those 
who  can  use  that  achieved  knowledge  correctly  for  the 
attainment  of  further  knowledge.  It  is  a  frequent  ex¬ 
perience  for  two  men  to  argue  very  hotly  over  a  certain 
contention  that  one  of  them  has  made,  and  then,  when 
that  contention  has  been  finally  grudgingly  admitted, 
for  the  other  to  cut  the  ground  from  under  the  feet  of  his 
adversary  by  pointing  out  that  really  this  special  con¬ 
tention  has  little  bearing  on  the  main  question  at  issue^ 


188 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


The  greatest  scientists  have  at  times  given  the  results 
they  have  actually  discovered  significance  and  further 
implications  which  those  results  will  not  bear.  For  ex¬ 
ample,  take  the  case  of  the  theory  of  biological  evolu¬ 
tion  with  which  we  shall  be  concerned  in  the  next  chap¬ 
ter.  When  that  hypothesis  was  first  generally  received 
a  generation  ago,  many  men  felt  that  if  the  present  spe¬ 
cies  had  originated  through  the  long  process  of  natural 
selection,  that  fact  conclusively  disproved  their  creation 
by  God.  It  should  be  obvious  that,  whatever  the  indi¬ 
rect  effect  of  the  Darwinian  theory  may  have  been,  a  de¬ 
scription  of  the  various  steps  in  the  process  of  creation 
can  neither  confirm  nor  invalidate  that  process  itself. 

Perhaps,  then,  it  is  best  to  clear  away  some  of  these 
misconceptions  as  to  the  real  nature  of  “ explanation” 
at  the  outset,  and  to  preface  our  account  of  what  “  ex¬ 
planation”  does  with  a  list  of  the  things  chat  it  does 
not  do. 

In  the  first  place,  it  ought  to  be  obvious  that,  al¬ 
though  we  have  explained  heat  as  a  form  of  molecular 
energy,  and  have  found  means  of  measuring  that  energy 
accurately,  we  have  in  no  wise  altered  the  fact  that  some 
bodies  are  hot  and  some  are  cold.  The  scientist  uses  in 
this  connection  a  phrase  that  is  very  apt  to  lead  to  mis¬ 
understanding,  and  that  has  caused  incalculable  confu¬ 
sion  in  interpreting  the  significance  of  his  results.  He  tells 
us  that  he  has  succeeded  in  “  reducing’ ’  the  qualitative 
and  unmeasurable  differences  between  more  and  less  hot 
to  purely  quantitative  differences  that  can  be  accurately 
measured,  and  that  hence  lend  themselves  readily  to 
mathematical  calculation  and  prediction.  He  tells  us 
that  he  has  succeeded  in  “ reducing”  all  the  varied  colors 
that  meet  our  eye  in  a  sunset  to  tiny  electro-magnetic 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


139 


vibrations  of  various  determinable  lengths.  He  may  even 
claim  to  have  “ reduced’ ’  the  highest  manifestations  of 
ethical  activity  in  man,  such  as  the  sacrifice  of  one’s  life 
for  an  idea,  to  a  process  that  can  be  described  in  these 
terms:  “It  might  be  possible  that  under  the  influence  of 
certain  ideas  chemical  changes,  for  instance,  internal  se¬ 
cretions  within  the  body,  are  produced  which  increase 
the  sensitiveness  to  certain  stimuli  to  such  an  unusual 
degree  that  such  people  become  slaves  to  certain  stimuli 
just  as  the  copepods  [tiny  little  crawfish-like  creatures] 
become  slaves  to  the  light  when  carbon  dioxide  is  added 
to  the  water.”  1  Now,  in  so  far  as  this  process  of  “re¬ 
duction  ”  means  the  getting  rid  of  something  with  which 
we  started,  and  in  so  far  as  the  scientist  in  using  the 
phrase  means  to  imply  that  as  a  result  of  his  discoveries 
we  now  know  that  hot  objects  are  not  really  hot,  but 
only  vibrating  rapidly,  or  that  the  sunset  is  not  really  a 
blaze  of  color,  but  only  complex  wave-motions,  or  that 
the  man  is  not  really  manifesting  the  highest  ethical  ac¬ 
tivity,  but  only  responding  to  chemical  stimuli  —  in  so 
far  as  he  allows  this  notion  to  creep  into  his  mind,  he  is 
very  obviously  talking  nonsense.  The  term  “reduc¬ 
tion”  is  a  technical  one  that  originates  in  mathematics, 
and  means  the  transformation  of  one  equation  into  an¬ 
other,  usually,  though  not  always,  simpler,  by  means  of 
the  ordinary  algebraic  processes.  This  mathematical 
“reduction”  is  usually  performed  for  the  purpose  of 
greater  convenience  in  handling,  and  that  very  fact  sug¬ 
gests  the  reason  why  the  physicist  does  a  somewhat  anal¬ 
ogous  thing  in  dealing  with  his  complexities.  But  one 
outstanding  difference  between  the  world  of  the  actually 
existent  in  which  the  physicist  works,  and  the  non-exist- 

1  Loeb,  Mechanistic  Conception  of  Life ,  p.  62. 


140 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


ent  or  hypothetical  world  in  which  the  mathematician  is 
at  home,  lies  in  just  this  fact,  that  in  the  latter  one  equa¬ 
tion  is  as  good  as  another,  and  can  be  substituted  for  the 
other,  whereas  in  the  former,  though  for  purposes  of  con¬ 
venience  we  must  perform  this  “reduction,”  we  can 
never  take  away  a  single  iota  from  the  actual  world  with 
which  we  commenced.  The  geometer  starts  with  as¬ 
sumptions  which  he  can  change  at  will;  the  physical 
scientist  starts  from  facts  which  nothing  can  ever 
change.  It  is  so  easy  to  forget  this  simple  truth  that  it 
cannot  be  insisted  upon  too  strongly. 

What  the  scientist  has  really  done  is  to  establish  a  cer¬ 
tain  definite  relation  between  certain  changes  in  molecu¬ 
lar  motion  and  corresponding  changes  in  the  degree  of 
heat.  We  know  that  when  the  mercury  column  is  of  one 
length,  we  can  experience  a  certain  degree  of  hotness; 
and  that  when  it  becomes  shorter  we  shall  get  cooler. 
But  no  one  would  say  that  the  mercury  column  is  the 
hotness, or  that  the  rapid  movement  of  molecules  is  that 
phenomenon  we  call  heat.  When  we  say  that  water 
is  hot,  we  may  know  perfectly  the  mass,  volume,  veloc¬ 
ity,  and  path  of  the  component  molecules,  but  that  is 
not  what  we  mean  by  that  statement.  We  mean  by 
that  hotness  something  that  both  the  upholders  of  the 
calorific  and  the  molecular  explanations  of  heat,  or  any 
child  with  no  explanation  at  all,  would  all  recognize  as  a 
fundamental  fact  of  experience.  Nor  are  all  the  king’s 
horses  and  all  the  king’s  men  able  to  alter  the  fact  that 
hot  things  are  hot,  and  sunsets  colored,  and  men  laying 
down  their  lives  for  an  idea  truly  moral.  The  scientist, 
in  his  explaining  of  these  phenomena,  has  not  taken 
away  from  them  a  jot  or  a  tittle;  he  has  merely  added 
a  great  many  things.  He  has  discovered  that  bodies 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


141 


which  are  hot  are  not  only  hot,  but  that  they  are  in  ad¬ 
dition  composed  of  rapidly  moving  particles.  He  has 
added  new  facts,  and  has  not,  as  he  may  fondly  think, 
robbed  us  of  any  we  possessed  before.  He  has  cor¬ 
related  molecular  velocities  with  degrees  of  heat,  and 
this  established  relation  has  proved,  as  we  have  seen, 
immensely  fruitful.  He  can  measure  those  velocities, 
where  he  could  not  measure  heat  directly.  He  can 
calculate  with  them,  he  can  predict  with  them,  he  can 
bring  a  whole  series  of  phenomena  within  the  scope  of  a 
few  simple  formulae.  But  the  fact  that  we  have  found 
out  just  how  much  hotter  it  is  to-day  than  it  was  yes¬ 
terday  can  never  alter  the  fact  that  it  is  hotter. 

Moreover,  the  molecular  explanation,  in  introducing 
the  same  underlying  notion  of  motion  into  a  number  of 
different  physical  happenings,  and  in  showing  that  all 
these  happenings  can  be  grouped  together  because  of 
the  fact  that  all  possess  this  motion,  does  not  alter  the 
great  differences  that  do  exist  between  them.  Steam  is 
still  a  vastly  different  kind  of  thing  from  ice,  even  if  we 
have  learned  that  the  molecules  of  both  are  composed  of 
one  atom  of  oxygen  and  two  of  hydrogen.  The  fact  that 
they  are  both  forms  of  water  does  not  make  it  a  question 
of  indifference  which  we  shall  use  if  we  want  to  make  ice 
cream  or  a  steamed  pudding.  Ice  and  steam  are  just  as 
distinct  and  act  in  ways  just  as  different  as  we  ever 
found  them  to,  but  we  have  learned  that,  in  addition , 
for  certain  chemical  purposes  they  can  be  used  indiffer¬ 
ently.  The  fact  that  heat  is  discovered  to  be  a  form  of 
motion  does  not  prejudice  its  being  a  very  particular  and 
special  kind.  And  the  fact  that  human  beings  dying 
for  ideas  and  copepods  moving  toward  the  light  may 
have  certain  characteristics  in  common  is,  for  most  pur- 


142 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


poses,  of  infinitesimal  importance  compared  with  the 
enormous  gulf  that  will  always  remain  between  them. 

Explanation,  then,  robs  us  of  no  facts;  on  the  con¬ 
trary,  it  adds  greatly  to  our  possessions.  Closely  allied 
to  this  first  common  misconception,  from  which  even 
scientific  pathfinders  have  by  no  means  been  free,  is  the 
notion  that  those  simple  and  ultimate  things,  in  terms  of 
which  every  other  event  is  explained,  are  in  some  sense 
real,  while  the  complex  events  and  things  so  explained 
are  not  real.  The  analysis  of  compounds  into  their  ele¬ 
ments  does  seem  to  the  human  mind  to  make  those  ele¬ 
ments  the  important  things  and  the  compounds  fade 
away  into  the  background.  That  is  the  reason  why  a 
good  many  men  have  felt  called  upon  to  do  battle  vigor¬ 
ously  against  the  whole  method  of  explanation  by  analy¬ 
sis  which  is  the  mainstay  of  the  scientist’s  success.  To 
them,  and  also  to  a  great  number  of  scientists,  it  must 
be  confessed,  explaining  something  really  does  seem  to 
mean  explaining  it  away.  To  explain  heat  seems  to  ex¬ 
plain  heat  away  and  leave  nothing  but  molecules.  To 
explain  the  sacred  religious  experience  of  a  man  who 
has  walked  with  God  seems  to  be  explaining  his  religion 
away.  Deep  down  in  the  processes  of  men’s  minds  there 
seems  to  lurk  the  feeling,  never  perhaps  put  into  words, 
that  only  those  things  which  are  simple  and  cannot  be 
further  broken  up  into  parts,  and  which  remain  the  same 
in  all  the  manifold  changes  of  natural  events,  can  be 
in  any  significant  sense  “real.”  Things  susceptible  of 
change,  things  which  come  into  being  and  decay,  which 
suffer  the  mutability  of  temporal  existence,  do  seem  less 
real,  less  cosmically  important,  than  those  things  which 
are  able  to  preserve  their  own  integrity  against  the  en¬ 
croachments  of  time,  and  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  eter- 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


143 


nal  life.  Hence  it  is  perhaps  natural  that  scientists 
should  speak  of  “the  gross  world  of  matter  in  bulk, 
which  is  all  that  our  unaided  senses  can  perceive,”  and 
turn  with  admiration  to  “the  real  world,  the  world  of 
molecules.” 

“The  One  remains,  the  many  change  and  pass/’ 

and  for  that  reason  the  many  are  flitting  shadows  and 
the  One  alone  is  real.  That  men  instinctively  feel  this, 
it  is  impossible  to  deny,  and  hence  it  is  probably  just 
to  say,  “It  would  ill  become  science  to  deny  the  real¬ 
ity  of  things  with  which  it  has  no  concern.  But  it  has 
most  definitely,  but  at  the  same  time  unconsciously, 
limited  itself  now  to  the  recognition  of  only  those  ex¬ 
istences  which  appear  to  obey  the  law  of  conservation, 
and  for  which,  therefore,  there  is  this  much  of  proof  of 
reality.”  1 

Deep  as  this  feeling  may  be  with  many,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  give  any  rational  argument  in  its  favor. 
To  say  that  the  only  real  things  in  the  world  are  the 
units  of  matter,  energy,  and  electricity,  is  to  place  an 
unusual  interpretation  on  “real.”  Certainly  it  would 
seem  that  everything  in  our  experience  has  a  prima  facie 
right  to  be  considered  real  until  proved  not  to  be,  and 
it  seems  difficult  to  maintain  the  contention  that  only 
the  ultimate  simples  into  which  compounds  are  analyzed 
are  real.  For  obviously,  on  this  criterion,  the  world  of 
molecules  could  not  be  the  “real  world,”  nor  could  the 
world  of  atoms,  nor,  it  appears  highly  probable,  the  world 
of  electrons  and  “protons.”  For  all  of  these  it  seems  are 
themselves  compounds,  and  in  time  break  up  into  some¬ 
thing  else.  If  immutability  and  eternal  existence  are 

1  The  quotations  are  taken  from  the  otherwise  excellent  little  beok  of 
Frederick  Soddy,  Matter  and  Energy. 


144 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


the  sole  criteria  of  reality,  then  no  thing  at  all,  but  only 
the  laws  describing  the  behavior  of  the  various  things, 
seem  to  be  able  to  pass  the  test,  and  even  their  position 
would  be  in  constant  jeopardy.  And  if  nothing  we 
know  about  is  at  all  “real/7  the  distinction  between 
“real”  and  “unreal”  becomes  meaningless  to  us.  But 
such  a  distinction  obviously  exists,  and  if  we  try  to  give 
it  up  we  shall  find  ourselves  making  it  again  with  other 
terms. 

It  is,  then,  safe  to  assert  that  explaining  a  thing  can  in 
no  sense  explain  it  away.  The  thing  explained  remains 
as  “real”  as  it  ever  was,  and  scientists  who  feel  other¬ 
wise  are  merely  thinking  confusedly.  Heat  may  be 
molecular  energy,  but  that  does  not  prevent  to-day 
from  being  a  really  roasting  day.  The  scientist  ana¬ 
lyzes  and  explains  for  the  sake  of  understanding  better 
the  thing  he  is  explaining,  not  for  the  sake  of  arriving 
somewhere  else.  Of  this  error  psychology,  here  as  else¬ 
where,  since  it  is  our  newest  science,  furnishes  us  per¬ 
haps  with  our  most  glaring  examples.  No  mental  phe¬ 
nomenon  is  so  real  as  that  we  call  “will.”  Yet  the  psy¬ 
chologist  is  prone  to  analyze  that  complex  thing  into 
its  constituent  elements,  and  then  calmly  to  announce 
that,  of  course,  there  really  is  n’t  any  such  thing  as  will¬ 
power;  there  are  only  a  great  number  of  habits  and 
tendencies!  Nor  is  it  any  less  clear  that  it  is  our  “con¬ 
science”  that  keeps  us  from  doing  wrong.  Yet  the 
psychologist,  after  completing  his  analysis  of  that  men¬ 
tal  phenomenon,  is  apt  to  laugh  at  those  who  “still  be¬ 
lieve  there  is  such  a  thing”! 

It  is,  to  be  sure,  of  the  utmost  importance  to  point  out 
that  there  is  something  permanent  in  change,  and  to  dis¬ 
cover  what  those  elements  are;  but  when  the  scientist 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


145 


claims  that  his  explanation  in  any  sense  lessens  the 
reality  of  that  which  he  is  explaining,  he  is  merely  giv¬ 
ing  way  to  a  deeply  rooted  misconception  of  the  human 
mind. 

Thirdly,  the  fact  that  our  explanation  has  not  altered 
the  facts  nor  taken  anything  from  them  nor  made  them 
any  less  real,  but  has  rather  left  them  just  as  they  were 
with  the  addition  of  certain  new  knowledge,  is  extremely 
important  in  the  bearing  it  has  upon  the  limitations  of 
explanation.  For  it  makes  it  quite  possible  to  have 
more  than  one  explanation  of  the  same  happening,  to 
suit  different  purposes.  No  one  explanation  can  possibly 
exhaust  a  given  occurrence,  because  it  adds  to  rather 
than  subtracts  from  it.  Thus  a  man  who  sees  small 
boys  making  off  with  his  fruit  gets  red  in  the  face  and 
there  is  a  marked  rise  in  his  temperature.  The  explana¬ 
tion  of  the  physicist  is  that  the  molecules  in  his  blood 
have  increased  their  velocity.  That  of  the  physiologist  is 
that  the  heart  has  started  to  pump  the  blood  through  the 
lungs  much  more  rapidly,  and  that  oxidation  has  greatly 
increased.  That  of  the  psychologist  is  that  in  response 
to  a  certain  stimulus  the  instinct  of  self-defense  has  been 
evoked  with  its  accompanying  emotions;  while  the  com¬ 
mon  man  would  say  that  the  real  explanation  was  that 
the  gentleman  had  become  exceedingly  angry  at  the  mis¬ 
chievous  boys.  Which  of  the  four  is  right?  Obviously  all 
are,  for  each  one  is  explaining  the  event  in  the  terms 
that  he  finds  most  convenient  to  work  with,  and  each 
one  finds  that  it  is  like  something  quite  different  from 
that  which  occurs  to  his  fellows.  Moreover,  in  this  case 
it  is  apparent  that  for  the  great  majority  of  men  it  is  the 
last  explanation  and  not  the  first  that  is  really  the  sim¬ 
plest  and  most  illuminating.  But  the  others,  and  per- 


146 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


haps  still  more,  are  also  explanations,  perfectly  correct 
and  valid  in  their  way,  and  none  conflicts  with  the  rest. 
Each  rather  adds  to  our  knowledge  of  the  situation,  be¬ 
cause  each  new  thing  which  it  is  shown  to  resemble 
brings  into  prominence  and  makes  really  significant  a 
new  aspect  of  the  case. 

This  is  especially  important  because  scientists  have 

again  and  again  claimed  more  for  their  explanations 

than  they  really  do  tell  us.  They  have  felt  that  any  one 

* 

explanation,  in  “ reducing”  the  event  to  simpler  terms, 
has  got  at  its  real  or  essential  elements  and  that  no  other 
explanation  could  be  equally  valid.  The  reasons  why 
this  position  is  erroneous  ought  now  to  be  apparent. 
And,  in  particular,  the  reasons  why  the  explanation 
that  the  physicist  gives  of  events  by  no  means  exhausts 
those  events  nor  makes  it  impossible  for  another  type  of 
explanation  to  be  applied,  should  be  plain.  To  the  phys¬ 
icist,  explaining  a  natural  phenomenon  means  showing 
that  it  is  like  the  behavior  of  certain  ultimate  units  of 
matter  and  energy.  This  type  of  analysis  he  chooses 
because  it  is  the  only  way  in  which  he  can  obtain  ele¬ 
ments  that  will  lend  themselves  to  quantitative  and 
mathematical  handling,  that  he  can  measure  and  weigh 
and  accurately  determine  in  advance.  But  there  are 
many  other  purposes  in  life  besides  this  one  of  the  physi¬ 
cist,  and  hence  there  are  many  other  types  of  explana¬ 
tion  quite  as  applicable.  Scientific  explanation  is  of  a 
definite  kind  determined  by  the  aims  of  science;  it  an¬ 
swers  the  question,  “  What  is  this  like?”  in  terms  of  cer¬ 
tain  specific  things  like  objects  in  motion.  It  explains 
wholes  by  analyzing  them  into  their  component  parts. 
It  explains  houses  as  being  built -out  of  such  and  such 
bricks.  But  it  is  equally  important  on  occasion  to  ex- 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


147 


plain  a  brick  as  the  kind  of  thing  houses  are  made  out  of, 
even  though  that  explanation  be  not  the  kind  the  physi¬ 
cist  would  give.  It  is  certainly  as  valid  to  interpret  the 
“Why?”  of  inquiry  as  meaning  “What  is  it  for?”  as  it  is 
to  interpret  it  as  meaning  “What  is  it  like?”  When 
men  ask  “Why?”  they  are  apt  to  have  a  confused  notion 
of  both  types  of  answer  in  their  minds.  When  they 
wish  an  event  explained  to  them,  they  wish  to  know  both 
what  it  is  like,  in  what  great  group  of  phenomena  and 
under  what  laws  it  falls,  and  also  for  what  purpose  it 
takes  place.  The  first  of  these  questions  the  physicist 
attempts  to  answer;  the  second  lies  beyond  his  province, 
but  it  is  none  the  less  important. 

As  an  illustration  of  these  different  kinds  of  explana¬ 
tion,  take  the  case  of  a  man  at  the  automobile  show  who 
is  examining  a  new  engine  and  wishes  the  demonstrator 
to  explain  to  him  the  new  valve  which  he  finds  in  a 
strange  place.  The  demonstrator  would  answer  him  in 
several  ways.  He  could  show  how  it  opened  and  closed 
as  the  cam  shaft  revolved,  and  how  it  was  so  made 
that  it  closed  very  rapidly  indeed.  This  would  be  de¬ 
scribing  its  operation.  Or  he  could  tell  the  inquirer 
how  it  was  made,  and  describe  the  various  elements 
that  went  into  it.  He  could  go  into  the  matter  of  its 
origin,  and  trace  how  it  had  come  to  be  there  in  its 
place.  This  would  be  a  causal  explanation.  But  he 
would  probably  do  neither  of  these  things.  He  would 
rather  tell  the  man  why  it  had  been  put  there  —  what 
good  it  did  there,  what  function  it  performed  in  the 
working  of  the  engine  as  a  whole.  And  this  latter  ex¬ 
planation  would  not  be  of  the  type  of  the  explanation 
of  the  physicist,  because  it  would  be  in  terms  of  pur¬ 
pose,  in  terms  of  the  engine  as  a  whole,  of  which  it 


148 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


was  but  a  part.  Yet  it  is  obviously  the  most  impor¬ 
tant  kind  of  explanation  for  the  man  who  wants  to  run 
the  engine.  But  it  does  not  conflict  at  all  with  the 
other  explanations. 

This  point  has  been  emphasized  because  historically 
many  of  the  greatest  pathfinders  have  felt  that  these 
two  kinds  of  explanation  really  excluded  each  other. 
They  have  felt  that  men  must  cleave  to  the  one  and  for¬ 
sake  the  other;  that  men  could  not  serve  two  masters, 
explanation  in  terms  of  simple  component  elements,  and 
explanation  in  terms  of  purpose.  They  have  not  been 
able  to  see  how  the  universe  could  be  a  great  mechanical 
system,  capable  of  mechanical  explanation,  and  at  the 
same  time  be  a  great  whole  whose  parts  could  be  con¬ 
ceived  to  be  fulfilling  certain  purposes,  to  be  for  the  sake 
of  something.  They  have  failed  to  see  how  man’s  ac¬ 
tions  could  be  explained  both  in  terms  of  the  purposes 
for  which  he  performs  certain  acts  and  the  mechanical 
way  in  which  his  body  acts.  If  the  foregoing  discussion 
has  made  anything  clear,  it  should  have  served  to  show 
us  that  these  two  kinds  of  explanation,  different  as  they 
are,  are  quite  compatible. 

A  quotation  from  the  great  philosopher  Plato’s  de¬ 
scription  of  the  death  of  his  teacher  Socrates  will  illus¬ 
trate  this  clearly.  Socrates  is  in  prison  awaiting  exe¬ 
cution,  talking  to  his  friends,  and  he  is  finding  fault 
with  the  type  of  explanation  given  by  a  scientist  of  his 
actions:1 

I  might  compare  him  to  a  person  who  began  by  maintain¬ 
ing  generally  that  mind  is  the  cause  of  the  actions  of  Socrates, 
but  who,  when  he  endeavored  to  explain  the  causes  of  my  sev¬ 
eral  actions  in  detail,  went  to  show  that  I  sit  here  because  my 


1  Phcedo ,  paragraph  99.  Jowett  translation. 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


149 


body  is  made  up  of  bones  and  of  muscles;  and  the  bones,  as  he 
would  say,  are  hard  and  have  ligaments  which  divide  them, 
and  the  muscles  are  elastic,  and  they  cover  the  bones,  which 
have  also  a  covering  or  environment  of  flesh  and  skin  which 
contains  them;  and  as  the  bones  are  lifted  at  the  joints  by  the 
contraction  or  relaxation  of  the  muscles,  I  am  able  to  bend 
my  limbs,  and  this  is  why  I  am  sitting  here  in  a  curved  pos¬ 
ture:  that  is  what  he  w7ould  say,  and  he  would  have  a  similar 
explanation  of  my  talking  to  you,  which  he  would  attribute  to 
sound,  and  air,  and  hearing,  and  he  would  assign  ten  thou¬ 
sand  other  causes  of  the  same  sort,  forgetting  to  mention  the 
true  cause,  which  is  that  the  Athenians  have  thought  fit  to 
condemn  me,  and  accordingly  I  have  thought  it  better  and 
more  right  to  remain  here  and  undergo  my  sentence;  for  I  am 
inclined  to  think  these  muscles  and  bones  of  mine  would  have 
gone  off  to  Megara  or  Boeotia  —  by  the  dog  of  Egypt  they 
would,  if  they  had  been  guided  only  by  their  own  idea  of  what 
was  best,  and  if  I  had  not  chosen  as  the  better  and  nobler 
part,  instead  of  playing  truant  and  running  away,  to  undergo 
my  punishment  which  the  state  inflicts.  There  is  surely  a 
strange  confusion  of  causes  and  conditions  in  all  this.  It 
may  be  said,  indeed,  that  without  bones  and  muscles  and  the 
other  parts  of  the  body  I  cannot  execute  my  purposes.  But 
to  say  that  I  do  as  I  do  because  of  them,  and  that  this  is  the 
way  in  which  mind  acts,  and  not  from  the  choice  of  the  best, 
is  a  very  careless  and  idle  mode  of  speaking. 

In  calling  his  own  explanation  the  true  one,  Socrates 
is,  of  course,  falling  into  the  same  error  of  exclusiveness 
that  he  is  reproaching  in  his  adversary;  yet  it  is  obvious 
that,  as  an  explanation  of  the  conduct  of  the  man  in  re¬ 
maining  for  his  death,  the  scientist’s  attempt  is  futile. 
For  ethics  differs  greatly  from  a  natural  science  like 
physiology,  as  we  shall  see  later.  Scientific  explana¬ 
tion,  then,  does  not  alter  or  “ reduce”  an  event,  but  adds 
to  our  knowledge  of  what  that  event  is  like  instead  of 
robbing  us.  It  does  not  explain  it  away;  and  it  in  no 


150 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


wise  precludes  the  possibility  of  a  number  of  other 
equally  valid  explanations.  The  importance  of  these 
considerations  will  become  increasingly  obvious  as  we 
come  to  those  fields  in  which  the  physicist’s  type  of  ex¬ 
planation  does  not  seem  to  produce  especially  happy  re¬ 
sults.  There  we  shall  see  that,  because  men  have  failed 
to  realize  what  the  physicist  was  trying  to  do  in  his  ex¬ 
planations,  and  what  was  the  limitation  of  that  particu¬ 
lar  type,  they  have  tried  to  apply  methods  quite  un¬ 
suited  to  those  fields,  and  have  succeeded  in  involving 
themselves  in  well-nigh  inextricable  confusion.  Perhaps 
these  men  are  themselves  chiefly  to  blame  for  their 
own  failures,  but  a  good  many  natural  scientists  have 
great  responsibility  for  their  own  inability  to  realize 
the  nature  and  the  significance  of  their  own  methods. 

In  the  course  of  telling  what  scientific  explanation  is 
not,  we  have  arrived  at  a  fairly  definite  idea  of  what  it 
is.  It  will  be  necessary  only  to  summarize  it  briefly  here. 
Scientific  explanation  is  telling  what  a  thing  or  an  event 
is  like;  that  is,  it  is  describing  it  in  terms  of  some  other 
type  of  thing  or  event  with  whose  ways  of  happening  we 
are  already  acquainted.  If  we  can  discover  some  sim¬ 
ple  type  of  happening  in  whose  terms  we  can  describe 
all  other  manifold  events  and  phenomena,  we  shall  have 
achieved  the  ideal  of  such  explanation.  This  the  phys¬ 
icist  has  almost  accomplished  when  he  can  understand 
all  non-chemical  and  non-electrical  properties  of  bodies 
in  terms  of  the  varying  energy  of  motion  of  the  mole¬ 
cules  of  which  they  are  composed.  In  so  far  as  all  phys¬ 
ical  occurrences  can  be  correlated  with  these  molecular 
motions,  the  physicist  is  in  a  position  to  calculate  and 
predict  with  extreme  accuracy  and  success,  and  as  a 
matter  of  fact  he  has  found  this  molecular  hypothesis 


NATURE  IN  EXPLANATION 


151 


marvelously  fruitful.  In  particular,  it  has  proved  su¬ 
perior  to  the  old  caloric  theory  of  heat  in  enabling  us  to 
explain  a  much  greater  number  of  observed  phenomena 
in  terms  of  the  one  simple  type  of  motion,  and  to  predict 
other  phenomena  which  later  experiments  verified.  But 
we  must  not  forget  that  the  scientific  type  of  explana¬ 
tion  by  analogy  is  but  one  among  many  possible  and, 
depending  upon  the  specific  purpose  we  have  in  view, 
equally  valid  kinds.  We  can  explain  the  electric  light 
either  by  expounding  the  electro-magnetic  theory  of 
electricity  and  light,  or  by  describing  the  production  of 
bulbs  in  the  Mazda  factory,  or  by  considering  the  need 
of  man  for  artificial  illumination;  and  our  explanation 
will  be  analogical,  genetic,  or  purposive  according  as 
our  interest  is  predominantly  that  of  the  physicist,  the 
manufacturer,  or  the  interior  decorator. 

QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  Why  do  we  understand  events  better  if  we  are  shown  that  they  re¬ 
semble  something  with  which  we  are  familiar?  How  does  such 
a  resemblance  help  us  to  control  them? 

2.  Does  the  scientist  always  choose  elements  that  are  familiar  by 
w4iich  to  explain  phenomena?  Are  we  more  familiar  with  mole¬ 
cules  or  with  heat?  Give  further  illustrations. 

3.  What  were  the  aims  of  the  mediaeval  scientists  in  their  classifica¬ 
tion  of  natural  objects?  Why  does  such  a  classification  seem  un¬ 
fruitful  to  the  modern  physicist?  What  basis  of  classification  does 
he  employ? 

4.  Give  examples  of  the  mediaeval  type  of  explanation  prevalent  to¬ 
day. 

5.  In  how  far  was  the  caloric  theory  of  heat  a  scientific  explanation? 

6.  Why  do  physicists  take  mechanical  action  as  the  most  elementary 
form?  Is  it  more  familiar  or  more  simple  than  the  other  types? 

7.  Why  do  physicists  feel  and  hope  that  it  may  be  possible  to  explain 
every  type  of  event  in  terms  of  the  behaviour  of  electrons? 

8.  If  this  were  possible,  how  could  the  electron  itself  be  explained  and 
understood? 

9.  How  does  explaining  heat  on  the  analogy  of  mechanical  action 
rather  than  on  that  of  a  fluid  enable  us  to  understand  it  better?  To 


152  REFLECTIVE  THINKING 

predict  better?  To  control  it  better?  Which  is  the  more  familiar? 
Which  is  the  simpler? 

10.  Show  how  the  progress  of  the  science  of  heat  (thermodynamics) 
was  dependent  at  every  stage  on  methods  of  exact  observation. 

11.  Why  was  Rumford  so  sure  motion  must  be  the  cause  of  heat? 
What  had  he  disproved?  What  had  he  proved? 

12.  Explain  how  the  experiments  of  Rumford  and  Davy  were  applica¬ 
tions  of  the  method  of  difference. 

13.  Just  what  did  Davy  prove?  What  did  he  disprove?  Joule? 

14.  Show  how  the  molecular  theory  of  heat  fulfills  all  the  requirements 
of  a  good  hypothesis  developed  in  Chapter  III. 

15.  Give  further  examples  of  explanation  that  have  denied  the  exist¬ 
ence  of  that  which  they  set  out  to  explain. 

16.  Why  do  modern  scientists  tend  to  emphasize  similarities  between 
phenomena  at  the  expense  of  differences? 

17.  Can  you  account  for  man’s  instinctive  feeling  that  a  complex  phe¬ 
nomenon,  like  the  soul,  when  explained  has  become  less  real? 

18.  Make  a  list  of  all  the  different  types  of  explanation  you  can  think  of, 
illustrating  each,  and  indicating  the  particular  purposes  they  serve. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

On  Heat  and  the  Molecular  Theory: 

Encyclopaedia  Britannica ,  11th  Edition,  Articles  “Molecule,”  “Heat.” 
F.  A.  Soddy,  Matter  and  Energy .  Home  University  Library.  Henry 
Holt  &  Co.,  1912. 

J.  Tyndall,  Heat  as  a  Mode  of  Motion .  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1902. 
Comstock  and  Troland,  Nature  of  Matter  and  Electricity.  Van  Nos¬ 
trand,  1917. 

On  the  Function  of  Explanation: 

W.  James,  Principles  of  Psychology,  vol.  n,  chapter  “  Reasoning.” 
Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1905. 


CHAPTER  VII 

EVOLUTION  AS  A  PRINCIPLE  OF  EXPLANATION 

Section  1.  The  Variety  of  Living  Things 

One  does  not  have  to  look  closely  in  order  to  see  that 
earthworms,  lobsters,  spiders,  clams,  sharks,  frogs  and 
monkeys  all  differ  more  or  less  widely  from  each  other. 
Buried  in  the  earth,  there  are  found  the  remains  of 
strange  plants  and  animals,  unlike  any  in  existence. 
Thousands  upon  thousands  of  species  have  been  mi¬ 
nutely  described  and  distinguished  by  the  botanist  and 
zoologist.  In  what  manner  have  these  extinct  and  liv¬ 
ing  forms  come  into  being?  This  question  is  to  be  dis¬ 
tinguished  from  that  raised  in  a  previous  chapter,  re¬ 
garding  spontaneous  generation.  We  are  not  now  con¬ 
cerned  with  the  processes  by  which  the  individuals  of 
various  species  are  generated;  nor  shall  we  inquire  about 
the  ultimate  origin  of  life.  What  we  shall  consider  is 
the  nature  of  the  relationship  between  the  great  variety 
of  living  things. 

Two  general  types  of  answer  have  been  given  to  this 
problem:  (1)  The  forms  of  life  which  now  or  ever  have 
existed  have  been  introduced  by  separate,  distinct,  and 
unconnected  creative  acts ;  each  species  is  fixed  and  ge¬ 
netically  unrelated  (special  creation).  (2)  All  forms  of 
life  have  descended  from  a  common  ancestry;  species 
merge  one  into  another,  often  by  almost  indistinguish¬ 
able  differences  (evolution). 

As  historical  accounts  of  the  organic  realm,  the  two 
answers  have  been,  and  are,  in  competition.  After 


154 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


formulating  them  in  more  detail,  therefore,  we  shall  pro¬ 
ceed  to  test  them  in  accordance  with  the  criteria  of  a 
good  hypothesis.  During  this  analysis,  we  shall  have 
occasion  to  refer,  in  a  brief  way,  to  most  of  the  methodo¬ 
logical  principles  thus  far  examined,  as  we  trace  a  great 
inquiry  from  its  beginning  in  a  puzzling  situation  to 
its  culmination  in  an  hypothesis  cumulatively  verified 
from  many  different  fields. 

Section  2 .  Special  Creation:  A  Fixed  World 

On  the  analogy  of  the  jeweler  making  a  watch,  or  the 
potter  making  a  vessel  of  clay,  this  view  asserts  that  the 
various  kinds  of  living  things  were  manufactured,  pro¬ 
duced,  fashioned,  by  some  great  Artificer  whose  attri¬ 
butes  are  essentially  human.  Appearing  very  early 
in  the  history  of  the  race,  the  explanation  was  carried 
down  through  oral  tradition,  popular  mythology,  and 
general  literature.  Numerous  expressions  of  it  might 
be  cited,  from  ancient  Babylonian  narratives  to  the 
pronouncements  of  present-day  literal  interpreters  of 
Genesis.  But  as  a  more  familiar  presentation,  we  may 
select  a  number  of  verses  from  the  seventh  book  of 
Paradise  Lost 

It  is  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  day  of  Creation: 

“And  God  said,  Let  the  waters  generate 
Reptile  with  spawn  abundant,  living  soul: 

And  let  fowl  fly  above  the  earth,  with  wings 
Display’d  on  the  open  firmament  of  heav’n. 

And  God  created  the  great  whales,  and  each 
Soul  living,  each  that  crept,  which  plenteously 
The  waters  generated  by  their  kinds, 

And  every  bird  of  wing  after  his  kind; 

•  •  ••••••# 

“The  sixth,  and  of  creation  last,  arose 
With  ev’ning  harps  and  matin;  when  God  said, 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


155 


Let  the  earth  bring  forth  soul  living  in  her  kind, 

Cattle,  and  creeping  things,  and  beast  of  the  earth 
Each  in  their  kind.  The  earth  obey’d,  and  straight 
Op’ning  her  fertile  womb,  teem’d  at  a  birth 
Innumerous  living  creatures,  perfect  forms, 

Limb’d  and  full  grown. 

•  ■  •  •  •  •  •  •  • 

“There  wanted  yet  the  master- work,  the  end 
Of  all  yet  done;  a  creature,  who,  not  prone 
And  brute  as  other  creatures,  but  indued 
With  sanctity  of  reason,  might  erect 
His  stature,  and  upright  with  front  serene 
Govern  the  rest,  self-knowing; 

•  •••••••• 

> 

“Let  us  make  now  man  in  our  image,  man 
In  our  similitude,  and  let  them  rule 
Over  the  fish  and  fowl  of  sea  and  air, 

Beast  of  the  field,  and  over  all  the  earth, 

And  every  creeping  thing  that  creeps  the  ground. 

This  said,  He  form’d  thee,  Adam,  thee,  O  man, 

Dust  of  the  ground,  and  in  thy  nostrils  breathed 
The  breath  of  life:  in  his  own  image  he 
Created  thee,  in  the  image  of  God 
Express,  and  thou  becam’st  a  living  soul.” 

This  modern  retelling  of  very  ancient  stories  has  well 
been  called  “the  Miltonic  hypothesis,”  for  in  its  funda¬ 
mental  characteristics  it  was  the  prevailing  explanation 
of  natural  science  until  sixty  years  ago.  Linnaeus  (1707- 
78),  for  example,  the  leading  botanist  of  his  time,  ac¬ 
cepted,  without  question  or  qualification,  the  traditional 
notion  of  species,  as  specially  created  and  unchangeable. 
To  this  effect  he  wrote:  “Reason  teaches  that,  at  the  be¬ 
ginning  of  things,  a  pair  of  each  particular  species  was 
created.”  And  again:  “We  reckon  as  many  species  as 
the  Infinite  Being  created  in  the  beginning.”  Originally 
they  all  appeared  at  a  single  spot,  resembling  the  Gar¬ 
den  of  Eden,  and  from  there  spread  about  the  earth.  “I 
believe  that  I  am  not  straying  far  from  the  truth  if  I 


156 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


affirm  that  in  the  infancy  of  the  world  all  the  mainland 
was  submerged  and  covered  by  an  enormous  ocean,  save 
one  single  island  in  this  immeasurable  sea,  on  which  all 
animals  dwelt  and  plants  grew  luxuriously.”  1 

In  this  connection  it  would  be  possible  to  examine  the 
more  or  less  similar  opinions  of  other  distinguished  sci¬ 
entists  such  as  Cuvier,  Agassiz,  and  Richard  Owen,  but 
our  historical  interest  in  this  question  is  only  inciden¬ 
tal.  Let  a  summary  paragraph  from  A.  D.  White  suf¬ 
fice.  After  surveying  widely  the  growth  of  the  special 
creation  hypothesis,  he  writes: 

Thus  down  to  a  period  almost  within  living  memory,  it  was 
held  virtually  “  always,  everywhere,  and  by  all,”  that  the  uni¬ 
verse  as  we  now  see  it  was  created  literally  and  directly  by 
the  voice  or  hands  of  the  Almighty,  or  by  both  —  out  of  noth¬ 
ing  —  in  an  instant  or  in  six  days,  or  in  both  —  about  four 
thousand  years  before  the  Christian  era  —  and  for  the  con¬ 
venience  of  the  dwellers  upon  earth,  which  was  at  the  basis 
and  the  foundation  of  the  whole  structure.2 

THE  ARGUMENT  FOR  SPECIAL  CREATION 

The  special  creation  theory,  accepted  for  many  centu¬ 
ries  on  the  basis  of  an  analogy  to  the  making  of  things 
by  men  (see  section  5)  came  to  be  supported  in  later 
years  by  a  number  of  observations  which  at  the  time 
represented  the  best  opinion  of  eminent  scientists.  Palae¬ 
ontology  and  geology  both  seemed  to  substantiate  it. 

For  an  extended  period  there  were  controversies  as  to 
the  nature  of  those  peculiar  figures  that  were  found  im¬ 
bedded  in  the  rock  strata  at  so  many  different  levels. 
They  were  explained  by  a  great  variety  of  conflicting 
opinions:  ( a )  as  mineral  concretions,  or  chance  forma- 

1  Quoted  by  O.  Schmidt:  The  Doctrine  of  Descent  and  Darwinism . 

2  A  History  of  the  Warfare  of  Science  and  Theology. 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION  157 


tions  of  mineral  matter;  ( b )  as  models  employed  by  the 
Creator;  (c)  as  divine  mysteries;  (d)  as  products  of  the 
germs  of  animals  and  plants  which  had  lost  their  way. 
In  the  eighteenth  century,  however,  palaeontology  be¬ 
came  an  important  science,  and  we  arrive  at  Lamarck’s 
modern  accepted  definition  of  fossils  as  “the  still  recog¬ 
nizable  remains  of  organic  bodies.”  With  this  convic¬ 
tion,  the  scientist  now  proceeded  to  a  more  detailed  ex¬ 
amination  of  the  fossil  record,  and  soon  discovered  the 
remains  of  many  extinct  plants  and  animals.  He  found, 
further,  that  there  was  often  no  suggestion  of  relation¬ 
ship  between  the  various  levels  of  fossils,  that  gradual 
gradations  are  not  present  —  in  short,  that  there  are 
wide  gaps  in  the  fossil  series  which  would  seem  to  contra¬ 
dict  any  idea  of  common  ancestry  and  slow  evolution. 
These  observations,  which  apparently  confirm  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  special  creation,  were  the  main  source  of  the  pre¬ 
vailing  assumption  in  the  allied  field  of  geology,  while 
they  in  their  turn  were  supported  by  it. 

Combining  the  above  conclusion  regarding  fossil  de¬ 
posits  with  a  belief  in  the  special  creation  of  fixed  species 
and  the  second  important  belief  that  the  earth  is  less 
than  six  thousand  years  old,  and  we  are  almost  com¬ 
pelled  to  draw  a  particular  inference  regarding  the  ori¬ 
gin  of  fossils.  The  inference  is  that  the  past  history  of 
the  earth  was  marked  by  a  series  of  tremendous  catas¬ 
trophes  unlike  any  now  observable  as  a  result  of  which 
all  living  organisms  were  destroyed.  After  each  one  of 
these  catastrophes,  there  was  no  life  in  the  world  until 
the  Creator  had  introduced  a  new  generation  of  plants 
and  animals.  Although  the  examination  of  the  succes¬ 
sive  layers  of  fossils  might  reveal  an  ascending  order 
pointing  toward  the  human  race,  we  could  only  conclude 


158 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


that  this  order  displayed  a  series  of  separate  creative 
acts,  based,  no  doubt,  on  some  plan  culminating  in  man, 
but  furnished  no  evidence  of  genetic  relationships.  Ac¬ 
cording  to  this  view,  then,  the  present  inhabitants  of  the 
globe  are  the  lineal  descendants  of  the  last  creation. 

From  these  views  of  a  broken  series  of  fossils  and  a 
short  and  catastrophic  geological  history  the  inference 
was  drawn  that  special  creation  was  the  only  hypothe¬ 
sis  meeting  all  conditions.  It  was  an  inference  only, 
since  no  one  had  ever  witnessed  the  creation  of  a  species. 
The  evidence  was  consequently  indirect. 

In  examining  the  evidence  we  should  ask:  Does  the 
inference  supporting  the  hypothesis  rest  on  facts  cor¬ 
rectly  presented?  Let  us  examine  critically  the  beliefs 
regarding  fossil  groups,  and  the  short  space  of  the 
earth’s  history. 

It  was  maintained  that  the  fossil  record  was  broken 
because  a  number  of  past  cataclysms  brought  about  the 
extinction  of  all  life,  thereby  making  necessary  innumer¬ 
able  new  acts  of  special  creation.  When  this  view  was 
most  popular  at  the  opening  of  the  nineteenth  century 
the  science  of  palaeontology  was  at  its  infancy.  But  in 
the  interim  many  gaps  in  the  record  have  been  filled 
and  various  series  have  been  made  more  or  less  complete, 
as  thousands  upon  thousands  of  specimens  have  been 
collected  and  arranged.  As  early  as  1853,  Lyell  in¬ 
sisted  that  “There  are  no  signs  of  an  abrupt  termination 
of  one  fauna  and  flora,  and  the  starting  into  life  of  new 
and  wholly  distinct  forms.” 

When  there  are  still  gaps  in  our  fossil  record  there  are 
reasons  of  seeming  adequacy  to  explain  them.  “The 
imperfection  of  the  geological  record”  is  not  difficult  to 
understand.  Climatic  cycles  of  thousands  of  years  bring 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


159 


about  extensive  migrations  of  animals.  Driven  by  the 
changes  from  its  original  habitat,  a  particular  species 
may  return  at  the  end  of  a  very  long  period.  In  the  in¬ 
terim  the  remains  of  that  species  would  not  become  en¬ 
tombed  in  the  strata  then  forming.  The  locations  of 
fossil  deposits  would  be  altered  by  the  redistribution  of 
currents  and  upheavals  or  subsidences  of  shores  or  sea- 
bottoms.  An  ocean  floor  raised  to  the  level  of  a  conti¬ 
nent  would  soon  accumulate  fossils  wholly  different  from 
the  deeply  underlying  strata.  Vast  quantities  of  fossil 
remains  must  have  been  destroyed  by  the  intense  heat 
in  the  interior  of  the  earth.  But  simpler  than  such  geo¬ 
logical  detail  is  the  fact  that  many  frail  organisms  not 
composed  of  some  firm  substance  such  as  shell  or  bone 
could  not  possibly  be  preserved. 

The  gaps  in  the  fossil  series  seem  susceptible  of  an  ex¬ 
planation  other  than  that  of  cataclysm,  and  separate 
fixed  species;  and,  as  these  gaps  are  constantly  being 
filled,  the  fact  of  their  existence  becomes  less  significant 
and  the  thesis  of  evolution,  the  rival  of  special  creation, 
seems  better  substantiated. 

The  short  duration  of  the  earth’s  history,  a  second 
supposed  fact,  began  under  expert  geologic  investigation 
to  expand  itself  until  the  period  since  life  began  grew 
from  a  few  thousand  to  hundreds  of  thousands  or  mil¬ 
lions  of  years  —  a  period  of  time  so  vast  as  to  be  quite 
outside  the  thought  of  those  who  had  conceived  the 
first  account  of  the  origin  of  living  things  and  had 
thought  in  terms  of  time-spans  easily  within  man’s 
imagination. 

The  catastrophic  theory  had,  moreover,  included  a  be¬ 
lief  in  the  operation  of  forces  of  which  we  know  nothing. 
These  had  brought  about  the  great  periods  of  destruc- 


160 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


tion.  In  its  place  a  new  theory  gradually  gained  fol¬ 
lowers —  the  theory  of  uniformitarianism;  that  is,  the 
theory  which  holds  that  all  through  the  period  of  the 
formation  of  the  earth  the  same  uniform  forces  with 
which  we  are  acquainted  have  been  at  work.  Whenever 
possible,  the  scientist  prefers  to  entertain  an  hypothesis 
that  is  susceptible  of  verification  by  further  investiga¬ 
tion.  The  catastrophic  geology  presented  a  series  of  in¬ 
comprehensible  revolutions  in  the  past;  the  uniformita- 
rian  explanation  made  it  possible  to  observe  and  test  in 
the  present  those  forces  to  which  the  past  changes 
were  attributed.  The  catastrophic  theory,  furthermore, 
proved  to  be  an  unnecessary  assumption  in  violation  of 
the  Law  of  Parsimony. 

In  criticism  of  an  hypothesis,  in  addition  to  asking  con¬ 
cerning  the  facts  from  which  it  is  an  inference,  we  ask, 
Does  it  bring  simplicity  into  our  world  view?  In  the 
theory  of  special  creation  there  is  no  tendency  to  derive 
the  simple  from  the  complex;  if  anything,  the  problem 
becomes  more  complicated.  We  are  compelled  to  think 
of  countless  species  coming  into  existence,  independ¬ 
ently  of  one  another.  On  estimating  the  living  and 
extinct  species  of  plants  and  animals  as  approximately 
ten  million,  we  are  compelled  by  this  view  to  think  of 
ten  million  acts  of  special  creation. 

The  theory  of  special  creation  seems,  furthermore, 
quite  unable  to  throw  light  on  other  fields,  while  its  rival, 
the  theory  of  evolution,  does  assist  in  the  understanding 
of  the  facts  of  comparative  anatomy,  embryology,  pa¬ 
laeontology  and  geographical  distribution. 

In  a  good  suggestion  we  expect  to  find  implications. 
We  say,  If  this  is  so,  then  this,  too,  will  likely  be  associ¬ 
ated  and  may  be  understood.  Special  creation  carries 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


161 


with  it  no  such  range  of  implication;  evolution,  as  we 
shall  see  in  Section  4,  is  notably  fruitful  in  this  regard. 

Section  3.  The  Problem  of  Darwin 

“  Reason  teaches  that,  at  the  beginning  of  things,  a 
pair  of  each  particular  species  was  created.”  Thus  defi¬ 
nitely  did  Linnaeus,  the  lawgiver  of  Natural  History  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  answer  the  question  regarding 
the  variety  of  living  things.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  the 
world  of  plants  and  animals  had  been  ready-made  for  a 
clear-cut,  precise  system  of  classification  (“Linnaean” 
classification,  as  we  say).  As  each  species  was  created 
separate  and  immutable,  one  could  not  possibly  be  trans¬ 
formed  into  another.  But  at  the  very  time  that  these 
principles  were  most  dominant,  the  advance  of  science  in 
various  directions  was  leading  to  another  point  of  view. 

The  earliest,  important  steps  were  made  in  geology. 
While  the  catastrophic  geology  was  still  universally  ac¬ 
cepted,  a  Scotchman,  James  Hutton  (1726-93),  who  had 
been  studying  the  formations  of  his  native  country  for 
many  years,  reached  the  conclusion  that  the  mysterious 
causes  called  in  by  the  “  catastrophists  ”  were  superflu¬ 
ous  and  fictitious.  Affirming  that  the  present  is  the  key  to 
the  past,  he  wrote  an  extensive  work  illustrating  this  the¬ 
sis.  Just  as  the  crust  of  the  earth  is  being  changed  to¬ 
day  by  the  action  of  rain,  rivers  and  tides,  chemical  de¬ 
composition  and  internal  disturbances,  so  continents 
have  always  been  altered  and  the  most  ancient  strata 
built  up.  This  is  the  principle  of  uniformitarianism  (cf. 
von  Zittel,  p.  72)  which  was  elaborated  by  Lyell  and  in  its 
essential  character  became  the  keynote  of  modern  geo¬ 
logical  investigation.  The  following  quotation  from 
Playfair  was  inscribed  on  the  opening  page  of  LyelFs 


162 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


great  book:  “Amid  all  the  revolutions  of  the  globe,  the 
economy  of  nature  has  been  uniform  and  her  laws  are 
tne  only  thing  which  have  resisted  the  general  move¬ 
ment.  The  rivers  and  the  rocks,  the  seas  and  the  conti¬ 
nents  have  been  changed  in  all  their  parts;  but  the  laws 
which  direct  those  changes,  and  the  rules  to  which  they 
are  subject,  have  remained  invariably  the  same/’  Dar¬ 
win  once  wrote  that  Lyell’s  Principles  of  Geology  “  al¬ 
tered  the  whole  tone  of  one’s  mind.”  And  it  has  often 
been  said  that  the  doctrine  of  organic  evolution  is  sim¬ 
ply  the  application  of  uniformitarianism  to  the  prob¬ 
lems  of  biology. 

Let  us  try  to  understand  what  is  meant  by  that  last 
statement.  The  existence  of  groups  of  animals  having 
certain  peculiar  qualities  was  always  more  or  less  evi¬ 
dent,  until  finally  the  opinion  grew  up  that  some  of  these 
groups,  carefully  defined  as  “species,”  were  definitely 
immutable.  The  criterion  of  fertility  was  considered 
absolute,  and  since  they  could  not  have  descended  from 
one  another,  they  must  have  been  created  separately. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  were  a  great  many  obscure 
facts  which  were  not  illumined  by  such  explanations, 
and  which  would  at  once  generate  questions  in  the  cu¬ 
rious  mind,  especially  in  such  a  mind  as  that  of  Charles 
Darwin.  For  example,  careful  observation  and  classifi¬ 
cation  of  fossil  remains  would  reveal  the  fact  that  there 
were  gradations  in  the  fossil  series,  and  that  those  higher 
in  the  series  resembled  contemporary  beings  more 
closely  than  those  lower  down.  Why  do  animals  in  a 
particular  region  always  appear  to  be  related  to  those  in 
the  next  region,  so  that  the  order  of  replacement  is  grad¬ 
ual?  “  It  was  evident ,”  wrote  Darwin  in  his  Autobiogra¬ 
phy,  11  that  such  facts  as  these ,  as  well  as  many  others ,  could 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


163 


only  be  explained  on  the  supposition  that  species  gradually 
become  modified .” 

But  now  we  are  faced  by  the  most  difficult  problem  of 
all.  Assuming  for  the  moment  that  the  thousands  of  ex¬ 
isting  species  all  have  a  common  ancestry,  what  could 
be  the  explanation  of  such  an  inconceivably  complex 
development?  Why  should  there  have  been  such  an 
evolution?  Until  the  “how”  of  the  process  had  been 
discovered,  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  convince 
people  of  the  process  itself.  Some  solutions  had  been 
offered,  but  none  seemed  adequate.  “That  which  we 
were  all  looking  for,”  wrote  Huxley  concerning  the  in¬ 
vestigators  who  were  interested  in  the  question  before 
Darwin  published  The  Origin  of  Species  in  1859,  “was  an 
hypothesis  respecting  the  origin  of  known  organic  forms, 
which  assumed  the  operation  of  no  causes  but  such  as 
could  be  proved  to  be  actually  at  work.” 

Unless  such  causes  were  forthcoming,  special  creation 
seemed  to  be  the  alternative ;  and  the  purposive  or  teleo¬ 
logical  character  of  each  living  thing  became  the  only 
explanation  which  men  might  know  for  its  existence. 
Each  organism  exists  for  some  end.  Insects  were  made 
to  fertilize  flowers,  while  cats  exist  to  catch  mice.  It  is 
the  function  of  horses  to  serve  men.  In  the  same  way 
every  organ  was  made  for  a  purpose  —  the  eye  to  see, 
the  ear  to  hear,  the  hand  to  grasp,  and  so  on.  For  one 
who  accepts  this  point  of  view,  every  fact  of  adaptation  in 
nature,  from  the  most  immense  to  the  most  delicate,  ap¬ 
pears  to  be  clearly  explained.  This  is  but  a  brief  state¬ 
ment  of  the  well-known  argument  from  design  which 
was  elaborately  worked  out  in  Paley’s  famous  work  on 
Natural  Theology . 

The  theory  of  special  creation  might,  to  be  sure,  be 


164 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


held  by  those  who  read  no  purpose  into  the  creation  of 
the  myriad  forms,  but  the  theory  is  usually  associated 
with  the  belief  that  the  reason  why  each  thing  exists  is 
because  it  is  destined  to  serve  some  end.  This  type  of 
explanation  gives  great  satisfaction,  since,  if  it  can  be 
held  without  contradiction,  it  serves,  better  than  any 
other,  to  answer  the  question,  Why?  The  discovery  of 
a  final  or  ultimate  cause  sets  the  mind  at  rest,  while 
proximate  or  efficient  causes  set  one  wondering  as  to 
their  origin. 

Darwin  was  not  interested,  however,  in  the  discovery 
of  a  final  cause,  though  nothing  in  his  system  or  in  the 
belief  in  evolution  precludes  the  belief  that,  back  of  all 
the  process  which  has  brought  the  world  to  its  present 
state,  there  exists  one  all-inclusive  purpose.  The  Dar¬ 
winian  explanation  of  the  presence  of  the  forms  which 
have  existed  or  now  live  upon  the  earth  had  to  do,  not 
with  the  purpose,  but  with  the  mechanism,  of  evolution. 
His  theory  here,  that  of  natural  selection,  was  not  his 
main,  evolutionary  theory,  but  only  an  explanatory  ele¬ 
ment  within  it.  He  had  perceived  the  origin  of  many  of 
our  domesticated  plants  and  animals  —  the  result  of  de¬ 
liberate  planning  on  the  part  of  breeders  and  horticul¬ 
turists.  Here  were  countless  examples  of  modification 
going  on  right  before  his  eyes.  But  this  was  man-ar¬ 
ranged,  artificial  selection;  is  there  some  such  selection 
taking  place  in  nature  at  large?  If  so,  what  are  the  agen¬ 
cies  bringing  this  about?  Now,  Darwin  had  read  Paley, 
but  he  also  read  Malthus  on  The  Principle  of  Population . 
With  his  original  belief  in  special  creation  shaken  by 
such  questions  as  we  have  already  referred  to,  he  began 
to  brood  over  the  assertion  of  Malthus,  that  the  food 
supply  increases  arithmetically,  whereas  animals  in- 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


165 


crease  in  geometrical  proportion.  If  this  is  true,  a  con¬ 
stant  struggle  for  existence  will  go  on  in  the  living  world, 
and  those  creatures  which  are  able  to  secure  food  and  ad¬ 
just  themselves  to  their  environment  generally  will  sur¬ 
vive,  while  the  others  will  perish  —  the  process  known 
as  “Natural  Selection,’7  or  “Survival  of  the  Fittest,” 
“fittest”  simply  meaning  capacity  for  adaptation,  and 
not  necessarily  largest  or  muscularly  strongest.  Since 
offspring  always  tend  to  vary  from  the  parental  line 
(taking  variation  as  a  fact  given)  “favorable  varia¬ 
tions  would  tend  to  be  preserved,  and  unfavorable  ones 
to  be  destroyed.  The  result  of  this  would  be  the  for¬ 
mation  of  a  new  species.  Here  then  I  had  at  last  got 
a  theory  by  which  to  work.”  1  These  sentences  mark 
the  beginning  of  the  triumph  of  the  evolution  idea.  As 
man  produced  the  types  of  domestic  animals  by  artifi¬ 
cial  selection,  the  struggle  for  existence  has  produced 
changes  in  the  organic  forms,  in  nature  at  large.  It  was 
no  longer  necessary  to  invoke  supernatural  interference 
in  order  to  understand  such  changes.  It  was  no  longer 
necessary  to  introduce  a  complete  teleology  in  nature 
in  order  to  explain  nice  adaptations. 

In  this  chapter  we  are  concerned  primarily  with  the 
general  theory  of  evolution,  and  not  with  the  factors,  or 
mechanism  in  nature,  which  brought  about  the  evolu¬ 
tion.  It  is  entirely  possible  to  be  convinced  of  the  fact, 
which  is  one  problem,  without  having  certain  knowledge 
of  the  factors,  which  form  another  problem.  But  in  or¬ 
der  to  come  to  a  proper  understanding  of  Darwin,  it  was 
necessary  to  dwell  in  some  detail  on  the  causal  mechan¬ 
ism  of  natural  selection  just  described,  which  led  rapidly 
to  the  general  acceptance  of  a  belief  that  was  as  old  as 

1  Darwin’s  Autobiography . 


166 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


ancient  philosophy.  Many  thinkers  before  Darwin  had 
contended  for  evolution,  and  had  offered  evidence  in 
support  of  their  contention,  so  that  his  particular, 
unique  contribution  was  the  explanatory  hypothesis  of 
the  mechanism  of  natural  selection,  or  survival  of  the 
fittest.  It  is  true  that  natural  selection  is  by  no  means 
adequate  to  explain  all  of  the  complicated  features  of 
evolution,  nor  did  Darwin  ever  argue  that  it  was  the  ex¬ 
clusive  cause.  Such  factors  as  the  direct  influence  of 
environment  and  the  effect  of  use  and  disuse  of  organs 
have  not  yet  been  sufficiently  investigated.  But  what¬ 
ever  further  conclusions  are  drawn,  it  seems  certain  that 
natural  selection  will  always  be  regarded  as  one  of  the 
important  factors. 

From  a  period  very  early  in  his  investigation,  the 
work  of  Darwin  became  largely  deductive  —  the  prob¬ 
lem  of  fitting  into  his  hypothesis  the  concrete  facts 
which  came  under  his  observation,  with  the  result  that 
the  facts  which  might  have  led  to  the  formulation  of  the 
hypotheses  became  evidences  for  their  validity.  What, 
then,  are  the  implications  of  the  suggestion  that  all  liv¬ 
ing  forms  have  a  common  ancestry?  If  this  hypothesis 
is  sound,  we  should  be  able  to  find  many  indications  of 
interconnections  between  the  various  so-called  “  spe¬ 
cies/’  We  should  also  behold  interconnection  between 
fossils.  In,  the  bodies  of  very  different  animals,  there 
should  appear  telltale  marks  of  their  common  origin. 
From  various  fields  Darwin  collected  quantities  of  evi¬ 
dence  which  confirmed  his  hypothesis,  and  since  his  day 
there  have  been  opened  new  fields  of  investigation  which 
are  only  illuminated  when  we  interpret  them  in  terms  of 
evolution.  (The  several  kinds  of  evidence  will  be  con¬ 
sidered  in  the  following  section.) 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


167 


At  this  point  let  us  summarize  briefly  the  method  of 
Darwin,  (a)  Starting  with  the  traditional  belief  in  spe¬ 
cial  creation  and  design  in  nature,  he  came  upon  such 
facts  as  the  geographical  distribution  of  animals  and  the 
peculiar  relations  of  fossils.  He  was  impressed  further 
by  the  way  in  which  breeders  produced  new  varieties  by 
deliberate  selection.  ( b )  Such  observations  seemed  to 
imply  modification  of  species,  or  diversified  develop¬ 
ment  from  the  same  progenitors  —  the  evolutionary  hy¬ 
pothesis.  But  an  explanation  of  this  development  was 
lacking,  and  he  found  it  in  the  further  hypothesis  of  nat¬ 
ural  selection,  or  survival  of  the  fittest,  (c)  Finally,  he 
discovered  that  the  laborious  examination  of  all  manner 
of  facts  verified  the  evolution  hypothesis;  or,  in  other 
words,  that  from  it  the  specific  phenomena  of  animal 
and  plant  life  were  deducible. 

Section  4.  Evolution:  A  Growing  World 

Organic  evolution  means  that  the  present  is  the  child  of  the 
past  and  the  parent  of  the  future.  It  is  not  a  power  or  a  prin¬ 
ciple;  it  is  a  process  —  a  process  of  becoming.  It  means  that 
the  present-day  animals  and  plants  and  all  the  subtle  inter¬ 
relations  between  them  have  arisen  in  a  natural  knowable 
way  from  a  preceding  state  of  affairs  on  the  whole  some¬ 
what  simpler,  and  that  again  from  forms  and  inter-rela¬ 
tions  simpler  still,  and  so  on  backwards  and  backwards 
for  millions  of  years  till  we  lose  all  clues  in  the  thick  mist 
that  hangs  over  life’s  beginnings.1 

Applicable  to  every  living  thing  in  the  history  of  the 
earth,  evolution  is  one  of  the  most  sweeping,  all-inclu¬ 
sive  generalizations  ever  conceived.  Obviously,  it  can¬ 
not  be  completely  established  by  direct  observation  or 
experiment,  since  human  experience  extends  over  such  a 

1  The  Outline  of  Sciencet  vol.  I,  p.  56, 


168 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


relatively  brief  period  of  time  and  a  small  part  of  the 
globe.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  based  upon  such  a 
multitude  of  observed  facts,  constantly  being  added  to, 
from  so  many  different  sources  of  investigation,  that 
most  scientists  would  probably  be  inclined  to  say  that 
evolution  is  now  as  well  founded  as  Newton’s  law  of 
gravitation  or  the  Copernican  astronomy.  It  is  this 
cumulative  character  of  the  evidence  for  evolution  which 
becomes  such  a  convincing  confirmation.  Not  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  complete  proof  in  any  one  field,  but  the  fact  that 
in  every  field  evidence  has  been  converging,  and  in  none 
has  it  been  incompatible  with  evolution,  is  the  real  argu¬ 
ment  supporting  that  theory.  This  fact  deserves  em¬ 
phasis  as  it  is  a  point  in  the  methodology  of  thought 
which  the  evolutionary  hypothesis  illustrates  with  par¬ 
ticular  clarity. 

In  putting  the  hypothesis  to  the  test,  then,  we  may 
repeat  the  questions  formerly  asked  concerning  special 
creation,  without  reference  to  the  subordinate  problem 
of  the  mode  or  mechanism  of  the  evolutionary  process. 
Is  evolution  consistent  with  the  known  facts?  Does  it 
enable  us  to  consider  highly  complex  facts  in  simpler 
terms?  Does  it  lead  to  further  unknown  facts?  In  this 
instance  there  will  be  no  need  of  treating  the  answers 
separately.  We  shall  see  how  a  vast  quantity  of  appar¬ 
ently  unrelated  phenomena  are  made  intelligible  by  a 
single  principle,  and  for  the  same  reason  how  a  group  of 
originally  independent  sciences  becomes  unified.  In 
this  way  do  various  distinct  types  of  evidence  point  to¬ 
ward  the  same  conclusion. 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


169 


CUMULATIVE  EVIDENCE  AND  EXPLANATION 

(1)  Distribution:  Palaeontology  and  Geography. 

The  examination  of  geological  strata  reveals  an  as¬ 
cending  order  of  fossil  remains  from  the  exceedingly 
simple  to  the  most  complex.  Though  there  are  imper¬ 
fections  in  the  record,  there  is  no  indication  of  com¬ 
pletely  new  beginnings.  The  latest  fossils  resemble 
most  closely  existent  organisms.  From  the  observation 
of  such  order  we  infer  genetic  continuity.  On  exhibi¬ 
tion  in  our  various  museums  are  concrete  examples  of 
genealogical  series.  Of  these  the  horse  pedigree  is  per¬ 
haps  the  most  famous.  Through  nearly  thirty  stages, 
covering  a  period  of  approximately  two  million  years, 
the  modem  horse  is  traced  from  a  small  animal  of  about 
the  size  of  the  fox,  possessing  several  toes.  Moreover, 
there  have  been  predicted,  and  later  found,  intermediate 
fossil  forms  connecting  large  and  now  distinct  groups, 
6uch  as  the  archaeopteryx  and  the  pterodactyl,  a  flying 
reptile.  This  great  accumulation  of  facts  only  becomes 
intelligible  under  the  evolution  hypothesis,  so  that  Hux¬ 
ley  was  led  to  remark  that  palaeontologists  would  have 
had  to  invent  it  if  it  had  not  already  been  put  forward. 
And  according  to  von  Zittel,  palaeontology  had  a  new 
beginning  with  the  publication  of  The  Origin  of  Species. 

It  will  often  appear  that  there  is  not  the  slightest  rela¬ 
tion  between  the  animals  of  widely  separated  sections  of 
a  continent.  But  investigation  of  the  intervening  re¬ 
gions  will  show  animals  gradually  varying  between  the 
two  extremes.  Interpreting  these  facts  in  terms  of  evo¬ 
lution,  we  conclude  that  they  have  all  originated  from 
a  common  center,  being  gradually  modified  as  they  were 
adapted  to  a  new  environment. 


170 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


(2)  Comparative  Anatomy :  Classification ,  Homology s 

Vestiges . 

It  is  possible  to  draw  up  a  “tree  of  life”  which  will 
point  to  the  general  unity  of  the  entire  animal  world. 
Group  merges  into  group  in  the  most  significant  man¬ 
ner.  The  natural  connections  between  some  of  the 
larger  classes  are  continually  being  discovered.  In  a 
broad  way,  we  can  trace  a  line  of  descent  from  the  one- 
celled  amoeba  to  the  highest  vertebrates.  The  possi¬ 
bility  of  zoological  classification  would  be  a  profound 
mystery  without  the  development  principle. 

Homologous  structures,  according  to  the  comparative 
anatomist,  are  those  which  have  a  close  resemblance 
both  in  architecture  and  in  manner  of  development. 
For  example,  “the  fore  leg  of  a  lizard,  the  wing  of  a 
bird  and  of  a  bat,  the  burrowing  shovel  of  a  mole,  the 
flipper  of  a  whale,  the  fore  leg  of  a  horse,  the  human  arm 
and  hand,”  are  all  homologous  structures.  They  seem 
to  be  modifications  of  a  single  primitive  type,  the  con¬ 
clusion  implied  by  evolution. 

Useless  and  imperfect  organs  exist  in  all  animals. 
There  are  several  incomplete  bones  in  the  leg  of  the 
horse,  including  two  functionless  digits.  Whales  have 
vestiges  of  hind  legs,  hidden  below  the  surface.  In  hu¬ 
man  beings  there  are  the  muscles  of  the  ears,  the  vermi¬ 
form  appendix,  and  occasionally  “hare-lips,”  none  of 
which  are  of  any  value.  Such  vestigial  structures  either 
indicate  nothing,  or  they  point  back  to  a  prolonged  evo¬ 
lution,  to  animals  in  which  such  organs  were  functional. 

(3)  Artificial  Breeding:  Domestication  and  Experiment . 

It  is  difficult  to  deny  the  fact  of  evolution  when  we  see 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


171 


concrete  examples  of  the  process  in  the  cultivation  of 
plants  and  the  domestication  of  animals.  An  observer 
of  the  preevolution  period,  no  matter  how  acute,  would 
naturally  see  numerous  fixed  species  among  the  many 
varieties  of  dogs,  horses,  pigeons,  and  so  forth.  But 
there  is  sufficient  reason  for  affirming  that  our  dogs  are 
domesticated  wolves,  the  many  kinds  of  pigeons  have 
descended  originally  from  the  wild  rock-dove,  and  our 
beasts  of  burden  have  also  had  their  more  or  less  com¬ 
mon  progenitors. 

Data  drawn  from  the  comparatively  new  science  of 
genetics  have  verified  further  the  hypothesis  of  evolu¬ 
tion.  The  experiments  often  involve  dozens  or  even 
hundreds  of  generations  of  a  single  species.  Observa¬ 
tions  made  under  controlled  conditions  have  revealed 
wide  variations  from  an  identical  ancestry.  Permanent 
and  hereditary  modifications  have  been  brought  about 
by  abrupt  changes  of  the  environment.  “Thus,”  as  Pro¬ 
fessor  Scott  writes,  “the  experimental  proof  goes  to 
show  that  the  species  of  plants  and  animals  are  not  fixed 
and  immutable  entities,  but  are  capable  of  extensive 
modification  even  in  the  short  time  which  is  at  the  com¬ 
mand  of  the  experimenter.”  1 

(4)  Embryology  and  Blood-Tests . 

There  are  striking  resemblances  in  the  embryonic  de¬ 
velopment  of  animals  in  the  same  group.  The  embryos 
of  reptiles,  birds,  and  mammals,  up  to  a  certain  stage, 
are  not  immediately  distinguishable.  At  one  point,  the 
circulatory  systems  of  all  mammalians  are  essentially 
fish-like.  In  embryos,  also,  there  occur  vestigial  struc¬ 
tures,  many  of  which,  however,  disappear  before  birth. 

1  The  Theory  of  Evolution,  p.  157. 


172 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


In  a  highly  abbreviated  fashion  the  embryos  seem  to 
repeat  the  supposed  history  of  the  race.  As  species  are 
seen  to  be  related,  so  the  individual,  bearing  numerous 
traces  of  his  remote  ancestry,  ceases  to  appear  as  a  dis¬ 
tinctly  new,  sharply  defined  entity.  Unbroken  conti¬ 
nuity  is  the  outstanding  feature  of  the  organic  realm. 

There  is  a  final  class  of  evidence  for  evolution  which 
differs  in  character  from  any  known  to  Darwin,  namely, 
the  more  recently  discovered  blood-tests.  It  is  found 
in  many  cases  that  when  the  red  blood  corpuscles  of  a 
dog  or  a  lower  monkey  are  brought  into  contact  with 
the  serum  or  liquid  portion  of  the  blood  of  a  human 
being  the  corpuscles  are  dissolved;  but  when  the  red 
blood  corpuscles  of  a  higher  anthropoid  ape  are  brought 
into  contact  with  human  serum  they  remain  unaffected. 
This  condition  is  paralleled  in  the  case  of  a  horse  and 
an  ass,  a  hare  and  a  rabbit,  an  orang  and  a  gibbon,  a 
dog  and  a  wolf.  There  is  a  slightly  different  reaction 
known  as  the  precipitin  test  which  has  been  performed 
by  Professor  Nuttall  of  Cambridge  University  sixteen 
thousand  times  with  a  large  variety  of  blood  sera.  These 
two  types  of  experiment  are  further  indications  of  the 
general  unity  of  all  animal  life  and  they  point  out  specifi¬ 
cally  the  degrees  of  relationships  between  the  groups  of 
animals,  including  the  relationships  between  man  and 
the  higher  apes.  In  this  way,  not  only  is  the  evolution 
hypothesis  further  substantiated,  but  an  entirely  new 
field  of  investigation  is  illuminated,  which,  without  that 
hypothesis,  would  be  incomprehensible.  Add  to  this 
the  multifarious  facts  of  palaeontology,  geographical 
distribution,  comparative  anatomy,  genetics,  and  em¬ 
bryology  as  integrated  by  the  evolutionary  interpre¬ 
tation,  and  we  may  understand  somewhat  how  far- 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


173 


reaching  in  its  consequences  a  profound  theory  may  be. 
Literally,  evolution  has  created  new  sciences  while  it  has 
remade  old  ones. 

THE  EFFECT  OF  EVOLUTION  ON  CLASSIFICATION 

But  more  immediately  in  connection  with  our  study 
of  scientific  principles,  it  is  important  to  note  the  effect 
of  evolution  on  the  former  conception  of  biological  clas¬ 
sification.  That  conception,  as  most  thoroughly  devel¬ 
oped  by  Linnaeus,  was  based  on  the  doctrine  of  special 
creation;  the  same  position  was  taken  by  Linnaeus’  con¬ 
temporary,  Cuvier,  one  of  the  keenest  observers  in  all 
the  history  of  science.  According  to  them,  the  organic 
world  was  naturally  divided  into  a  certain  number  of 
sharply  defined,  unrelated  classes.  For  them,  the  ap¬ 
parent  connections  between  some  of  the  classes  is  only 
ideal,  and  not  genetic.  “  Specific  features  are  constant, 
and  remain  so  even  in  domesticated  breeds.”  Thus, 
careful  definition  and  accurate  classification,  which  are 
the  first  stages  in  scientific  investigation,  became  the 
end  and  ideal  of  biological  science  in  the  eighteenth  cen¬ 
tury.  This  was  the  inevitable  consequence  of  the  false 
foundation  upon  which  biology  then  rested.  Not  even 
genius,  such  as  that  of  Linnaeus  or  Cuvier,  could  advance 
far  without  a  sound  hypothesis,  both  as  a  guide  for  ob¬ 
servation  and  as  a  principle  of  explanation.  “  Nature, 
it  has  been  said,  gives  no  reply  to  a  general  inquiry  — 
she  must  be  interrogated  by  questions  which  already 
contain  the  answer  she  is  to  give ;  in  other  words,  the  ob¬ 
server  can  only  observe  that  which  he  is  led  by  hypothe¬ 
sis  to  look  for;  the  experimenter  can  only  obtain  the  re¬ 
sult  which  his  experiment  is  designed  to  obtain.”  1 

1  E.  R.  Lankester,  Degeneration;  cf.  Creighton:  An  Introductory 
Logic,  pp.  278-82. 


m 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


The  doctrine  of  evolution  has  exposed  the  arbitrary 
character  of  the  older  classification.  We  have  come  to 
realize  that  there  are  no  sharp  lines  in  nature,  that  the 
various  forms  of  life  have  numerous  relationships,  and 
that  ultimately  they  are  all  parts  of  one  continuous 
stream.  We  have  come  to  realize  that  there  are  no  sep¬ 
arate  groups  resulting  from  special  creation.  For  pre¬ 
cisely  this  reason,  the  word  “  species,”  which  has  been 
used  so  often  in  this  chapter,  has  not  undergone  defini¬ 
tion;  it  cannot  be  strictly  defined.  There  are  no  fixed, 
immutable  species,  as  formerly  imagined.  Even  the 
chemist  has  found  that  his  divisions  are  not  absolute, 
discovering  that  atoms  break  down  to  form  other  ele¬ 
ments.  The  distinction  often  made  in  logic  textbooks 
between  “natural”  and  “artificial”  classification  is 
really  misleading ;  all  classification  is  more  or  less  artifi¬ 
cial,  more  or  less  approximate.  Such  terms  as  “species” 
and  “genera”  are  not,  as  we  have  noted,  descriptive  of 
actual  divisions  in  the  nature  of  things;  they  are  only 
convenient,  practical  instruments,  by  means  of  which 
the  naturalist  organizes  his  material.  And  as  such,  they 
are  exceedingly  valuable,  being  the  raw  material  of  bio¬ 
logical  generalization. 

Section  5.  Some  Psychological  Factors  in  Biological 

Belief 

The  belief  that  each  living  thing  existed  by  an  act  of 
special  creation,  and  the  belief  that  all  creation  had  a 
purpose,  including,  ultimately,  that  of  serving  man  him¬ 
self,  find  support  in  some  of  the  most  deeply  rooted  tend¬ 
encies  of  thought. 

Man  knows  how  he  himself  does  things;  he  knows  that 
he  makes  his  tools,  his  home,  his  garments.  Each  new 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


175 


object  which  aids  him  in  his  life  is  directly  or  indirectly 
the  work  of  his  hands.  With  this  knowledge  strong 
within  him,  what  could  be  more  natural  than  that  he 
should  think  of  all  living  things,  and  the  earth  itself  as 
the  work  of  some  great  artificer,  man-like,  but  enor¬ 
mously  more  wise  and  powerful?  This  tendency  of  man 
to  think  of  things  in  terms  of  himself  is  called  u  anthro¬ 
pomorphism, man-form-ism.  It  is  hard,  furthermore, 
to  understand  not  merely  how  things  came  to  be,  but 
also  how  they  came  to  fit  together.  When  things  suit 
man’s  convenience,  he  himself  has  usually  brought  them 
together  in  accordance  with  some  plan.  Many  things 
in  the  world  man  is  acquainted  with,  fit  together  with 
amazing  serviceability.  This  fact  cannot  escape  even  a 
casual  observer.  What  more  natural,  then,  than  that 
man,  even  in  explaining  this  world,  should  think  that 
all  created  things  play  a  part  in  some  great  precon¬ 
ceived  plans,  and  that  each  thing  serves  some  pur¬ 
pose?  Spinoza  (1632-77)  gave  a  classic  expression  to 
this  idea  in  his  Ethics: 1 

Men  do  all  things  for  an  end,  namely,  for  that  which  is  use¬ 
ful  to  them,  and  which  they  seek.  Thus  it  comes  to  pass  that 
they  only  look  for  a  knowledge  of  the  final  causes  of  events, 
and  when  these  are  learned  they  are  content,  as  having  no 
cause  for  further  doubt.  If  they  cannot  learn  such  causes  from 
external  sources,  they  are  compelled  to  turn  to  consider¬ 
ing  themselves,  and  reflecting  what  end  would  have  induced 
them  personally  to  bring  about  the  given  event,  and  thus  they 
necessarily  judge  other  natures  by  their  own.  Further,  as 
they  find  in  themselves,  and  outside  of  themselves,  many 
means  which  assist  them  not  a  little  in  their  search  for  what  is 
useful,  for  instance,  eyes  for  seeing,  teeth  for  chewing,  herbs 
and  animals  for  yielding  food,  the  sun  for  giving  light,  the  sea 


1  Appendix,  Book  i. 


176 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


for  breeding  fish,  etc.,  they  come  to  look  on  the  whole  of  na¬ 
ture  as  a  means  for  obtaining  such  conveniences.  Now,  as 
they  are  aware  that  they  found  these  conveniences  and  did 
not  make  them,  they  think  they  have  cause  for  believing  that 
some  other  being  has  made  them  for  their  use.  As  they  look 
upon  things  as  means,  they  cannot  believe  them  to  be  self- 
created;  but  judging  from  the  means  which  they  are  accus¬ 
tomed  to  prepare  for  themselves,  they  are  bound  to  believe  in 
some  ruler  or  rulers  of  the  universe  endowed  with  human  free¬ 
dom,  who  have  arranged  and  adapted  everything  for  human 
use.”  1 

Thus,  as  Spinoza  says,  man  is  apt  to  see  a  purpose  in 
the  order  of  creation  which  serves  himself  as  its  pinnacle. 
Pride  is  a  great  motivator  of  belief.  For  this  reason 
each  creature  might  well  be  thought  of  as  specially 
placed  on  earth  for  man’s  use.  This  tendency  is  called 
“ anthropocentrism”  —  man’s  tendency  to  orient  all 
things  from  himself  as  the  center.  This  psychological 
tendency  is  one  of  the  reasons  for  the  enduring  appeal  of 
special  creation  and  for  the  opposition  to  evolution. 

The  believer  in  evolution,  who  may  be,  to  be  sure, 
convinced  on  other  grounds,  sometimes  finds  in  his  de¬ 
sire  to  believe  the  doctrine  an  additional  motive  for  its 
acceptance.  Perhaps  the  best  example  of  this  psycholog¬ 
ical  rather  than  logical  element  in  belief  is  to  be  found  in 
those  persons  or  groups  who  pursue  in  their  conduct  the 
theory  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  carried  over  into 
the  ethical  field  of  conscious  and  responsible  human  re¬ 
lations,  with  all  the  crudeness  of  its  operation  in  the  non- 
conscious  and  non-evaluating  realm  of  nature.  Valid 
standards  for  human  ethics  are  not  discoverable  in  the 
non-human  world.  The  uncritical  belief  that  the  sur¬ 
vival  of  the  fittest  is  everywhere  nature’s  law  seems  to 

1  Cf.  Hume,  The  Natural  History  of  Religion. 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


177 


such  persons  justification  for  their  conduct;  and  justifi¬ 
cation  is  a  constant  human  need.1 

In  the  scales  for  weighing  belief  neither  man’s  tend¬ 
ency  to  such  self- justification,  nor  his  habit  of  viewing 
things  in  terms  of  likeness  to  himself,  nor  his  fondness 
for  making  all  things  serve  him,  should  weigh  heavily  — 
they  may  be  causes,  but  scarcely  reasons,  for  belief. 
Evidence  rather  than  desire  is  a  reliable  guide.  Into 
figures  there  can  creep  few  biases.  Even  there,  how¬ 
ever,  bias  may  appear  in  interpretation. 

Section  6.  Misconceptions  of  Evolution 

However  carefully  the  principle  of  evolution  may 
have  been  formulated,  misinterpretations  were  bound 
to  follow  as  it  became  involved  in  general  application. 
Among  scientists  themselves  the  implications  of  an  hy¬ 
pothesis  are  frequently  carried  beyond  their  logically 
justifiable  bounds.  But  when  an  idea  derives  its  name 
from  the  common  speech  and  makes  a  serious  appeal  to 
the  popular  mind,  the  danger  of  perversion  is  indefi¬ 
nitely  greater.  This  is  especially  true  of  the  doctrine  of 
evolution.  A  large  part  of  our  thinking,  often  quite  un¬ 
consciously,  is  “evolutionary.”  It  has  become  the  gen¬ 
eral  tendency  to  study  all  phenomena  in  terms  of  origin 
and  growth.  The  development  of  religious  beliefs,  po¬ 
litical  institutions,  and  moral  customs  is  traced  along 
with  the  genealogies  of  plants  and  animals.  As  might 
be  expected,  therefore,  the  strictly  scientific  notion  of 
evolution  has  been  variously  misunderstood,  and  in  the 
following  sections  we  shall  discuss  two  of  the  more  com¬ 
mon  misconceptions. 

1  John  Stuart  Mill,  Essay  on  Nature;  Thomas  Huxley,  Evolution  and 
Ethics. 


178 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


EVOLUTION  NOT  SELF-EXPLANATORY 

How  exceedingly  valuable  evolution  is  as  a  principle 
of  explanation,  we  have  already  observed  in  some  detail. 
It  has  indicated  relationships  between  multitudes  of 
widely  separated  phenomena.  We  realize  that  ideas  and 
objects,  animals  and  institutions,  do  not  soar  up  in  sud¬ 
den  isolated  fashion,  but,  on  the  contrary,  are  all  parts 
of  continuous  series. 

An  evolutionary  explanation  is  an  historical  descrip¬ 
tion  of  events  occurring  in  time.  But  an  historical  de¬ 
scription  is  not  per  se  a  causal  explanation.  It  is  one 
thing  to  trace  antecedents;  it  is  quite  a  different  thing  to 
discover  reasons  for  that  particular  succession.  ‘  ‘  There 
is  an  obvious  and  striking  similarity  between  the  evolu¬ 
tion  of  man’s  inventions  and  the  evolution  of  the  shells 
of  molluscs  and  of  the  bones  of  mammals,  yet  in  neither 
case  does  a  knowledge  of  the  order  in  which  these  things 
arose  explain  them.”  1  The  fact  that  there  should  have 
been  any  changes  at  all  is  a  profound,  and  often  an  in¬ 
soluble,  problem.  This  is  simply  the  crucial  distinction 
that  we  have  already  made  between  the  fact  and  the 
factors  of  evolution.  Granting  this  order,  why  has  it 
been  as  it  has  been?  Why  did  this  occurrence  precede 
that?  Or,  for  example,  why  have  our  ancestors  had  cer¬ 
tain  beliefs? 

If  we  ask  why  they  so  believed,  it  will  not  profit  us  to  pursue 
antiquity  again,  unless  by  so  doing  we  come  upon  the  con¬ 
temporaneous,  experimental  origin  of  that  belief.  For  it  is 
evident  that  if  the  belief  had  an  origin,  there  was  a  time  an¬ 
terior  when  it  did  not  exist,  and  its  origin  cannot,  therefore, 
be  explained  solely  in  terms  of  that  anterior  time.  Its  origin 
points,  not  to  continuity,  but  to  action.  It  indicates,  not  that 
1  T.  H.  Morgan,  Theory  of  Evolution,  p.  4. 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


179 


the  originators  of  the  belief  had  ancestors,  but  that,  in  view  of 
their  contemporaneous  circumstances,  they  acted  in  a  certain 
way.  To  explain  the  origin  of  anything,  therefore,  we  cannot 
trust  to  the  continuity  of  history  alone.  The  continuity  may 
carry  us  back  to  the  beginnings  of  beliefs  and  institutions 
which  have  persisted  and  been  transmitted  from  age  to  age ;  it 
may  reveal  to  us  experimental  factors  which  have  shaped  be¬ 
liefs  and  institutions,  but  which  have  long  since  been  forgot¬ 
ten;  but  it  can  never,  of  itself,  reveal  the  experimental  origin 
of  any  belief  or  institution.  That  is,  in  principle,  the  limita¬ 
tion  by  which  the  explanatory  value  of  historical  continuity 
is  restricted.  To  understand  origins  we  must  appeal  to  the 
contemporaneous  experience  of  their  own  age,  or  to  experi¬ 
mental  science.1 

Certainly  evolution  is  a  valid  kind  of  explanation,  but 
it  is  by  no  means  the  only  kind.  “To  explain  anything 
at  all,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  in  mind  the  questions  to 
which  the  proposed  explanation  is  relevant.”  In  the 
previous  chapter  we  discovered  that  a  variety  of  expla¬ 
nations  can  be  given  for  the  same  facts,  depending  on 
the  specific  questions  that  have  been  asked.  A  mechani¬ 
cal  explanation,  for  example,  is  not  incompatible  with  an 
explanation  in  terms  of  purpose.  So  we  may  consider 
a  particular  lyric  as  the  consequence  of  the  poet’s  un¬ 
usual  diet  or  his  unusual  lady,  and  neither  explana¬ 
tion  will  exclude  the  other.  The  beauty  of  the  lyric 
itself,  as  much  as  the  beauty  of  a  rose  sprung  from  a 
refuse  heap,  is  quite  independent  of  its  origin.  In  the 
same  way,  the  truth  of  Schopenhauer’s  philosophy,  or 
of  Nietzsche’s,  or  of  Carlyle’s,  may  be  examined  without 
reference  to  mental  pathology.  Though  science  origi¬ 
nated  in  myth,  it  does  not  follow  that  contemporary 
science  is  mythical.  If  religion  developed  from  ghost- 

1  Woodbridge,  The  Purpose  of  History ,  p.  69. 


180 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


worship,  modern  religion  is  not  therefore  nothing  but  a 
modification  of  belief  in  ghosts.  The  understanding  of 
most  phenomena  is  reached  better  by  a  contemplation 
of  the  latter  stages  than  of  the  earlier,  the  contempla¬ 
tion  of  the  oak  rather  than  the  acorn,  the  bird  rather 
than  the  egg,  the  finished  book  rather  than  the  fragmen¬ 
tary  outline.  The  conduct  of  conscious  beings  can  be 
interpreted  more  intelligently  by  considerations  of  pur¬ 
pose  than  of  physiology.  The  knowledge  of  man’s  hum, 
ble  origin  and  of  his  bloody  history  is  no  justification 
of  bellicose  ideals  and  continuous  wars  among  civilized 
peoples. 

EVOLUTION  NOT  NECESSARILY  PROGRESSIVE 

In  the  briefest  phrase  possible,  evolution  means  de¬ 
scent,  with  modifications  which  are  usually  adaptive. 
It  is  thus  purely  a  scientific,  descriptive  term,  with  no 
moral  or  aesthetic  implications.  It  has  no  necessary 
connection  with  progress.  But  that  some  such  identi¬ 
fication  would  be  made  is  explained  by  the  theory  that 
the  idea  of  evolution  itself  evolved  from  the  idea  of  prog¬ 
ress  as  “a  gift  from  the  philosophy  of  human  nature  to 
the  philosophy  of  all  nature.”  1  Progress  was  the  dom¬ 
inant  theme  of  revolutionary  enthusiasm  early  in  the 
last  century,  and  somewhat  later,  evolution  became  the 
focus  of  discussion.  In  the  Synthetic  Philosophy  of  Her¬ 
bert  Spencer  and  the  poetry  of  Tennyson  the  two  ideas 
are  hopelessly  mingled. 

On  the  whole,  we  have  been  right  in  thinking  of  evolu¬ 
tion  as  a  movement  from  the  relatively  simple  to  the  rel¬ 
atively  complex.  This  has  involved  finer  adaptations, 

1  Cf.  Benn,  History  qf  English  Rationalism  in  the  Nineteenth  Cenr 
twry,  vol.  v,  p.  13. 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


181 


increased  stability,  and  advance  in  intelligence.  The 
human  race  is  the  latest  stage  of  a  prolonged  and  compli¬ 
cated  process.  But  there  may  be,  and  indeed  there  is, 
in  nature,  evolution  “downward”  —  that  is,  movement 
from  the  more  complex  to  the  less  complex  —  in  a  most 
astonishing  degree.  As  Professor  Lankester  has  pointed 
out,  there  are  three  possibilities  for  any  form  of  life:  (1) 
balance ,  in  which  it  maintains  more  or  less  its  status  quo , 
an  even  equilibrium;  (2)  elaboration,  in  which  it  becomes 
more  complex  in  structure ;  (3)  degeneration,  in  which  the 
complexity  of  its  structure  diminishes  and  it  becomes 
adapted  to  more  simple  conditions  of  life.  Parasitism  is 
a  manner  of  adaptation  in  which  one  organism  lives  off 
another,  inhabiting  the  food-canal,  the  blood-stream,  or 
the  tissues.  It  has  been  estimated  that  more  than  half 
the  animal  kingdom  is  parasitic. 

With  regard  to  ourselves,  the  white  races  of  Europe,  the 
possibility  of  Degeneration  seems  worth  some  consideration. 
In  accordance  with  a  tacit  assumption  of  universal  progress 
—  an  unreasoning  optimism  —  we  are  accustomed  to  regard 
ourselves  as  necessarily  progressing,  as  necessarily  having  ar¬ 
rived  at  a  higher  and  more  elaborated  condition  than  that 
which  our  ancestors  reached,  and  as  destined  to  progress  still 
further.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  well  to  remember  that  we 
are  still  subject  to  the  general  laws  of  Evolution,  and  are 
as  likely  to  degenerate  as  to  progress.  As  compared  with 
the  immediate  forefathers  of  our  civilization  —  the  ancient 
Greeks  —  we  do  not  appear  to  have  improved  as  far  as  our 
bodily  structure  is  concerned,  nor  assuredly  so  far  as  some  of 
our  mental  capacities  are  concerned.  Our  powers  of  per¬ 
ceiving  and  expressing  beauty  of  form  have  certainly  not  in¬ 
creased  since  the  days  of  the  Parthenon  and  Aphrodite  of 
Melos.  In  matters  of  the  reason,  the  development  of  the  in¬ 
tellect,  we  may  seriously  inquire  how  the  case  stands.  Does 
the  reason  of  the  average  man  of  civilized  Europe  stand  out 


182 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


clearly  as  an  evidence  of  progress  when  compared  with  that  of 
men  of  bygone  ages?  In  such  respects  we  have  at  least  reason 
to  fear  that  we  may  degenerate.1 

Section  7.  Summary 

The  foregoing  comparison  of  the  special  creation  and 
evolutionary  hypotheses  illustrates  once  more  on  a  large 
scale  all  the  methodological  principles  described  in  pre¬ 
vious  chapters,  makes  the  meaning  of  those  principles 
clearer,  and  adds  new  points  to  our  account  of  reflection 
in  the  sciences.  In  comparing  the  Ptolemaic  and  Co- 
pernican  astronomies  the  criteria  of  a  good  scientific  hy¬ 
pothesis  were  found  to  be:  (1)  ability  to  explain  all  the 
facts,  (2)  simplicity,  and  (3)  usefulness  in  prediction 
and  further  discovery.  The  analysis  of  the  molecular 
theory  in  physics  showed  us  what  was  meant  by  ex¬ 
planation. 

In  one  sense  the  special  creation  theory  is  able  to  ex¬ 
plain  all  the  facts  better  than  any  evolutionary  theory. 
For  no  description  yet  offered  of  the  mechanism  of  evolu¬ 
tion  is  quite  consistent  with  all  the  evidence,  whereas  the 
Creator  is  by  a  single  act  of  faith  endowed  with  the 
power  to  produce  anything  He  likes.  But  this  greater 
inclusiveness  of  the  special  creation  theory  is  procured 
by  giving  almost  no  account  of  the  mechanism  of  crea¬ 
tion,  so  that  we  cannot  be  said  to  understand  it  at  all, 
much  less  to  predict  what  further  species  it  may  be  ex¬ 
pected  to  produce.  In  the  full  sense  of  the  word  “  ex¬ 
planation/7  therefore,  the  special  creation  theory  may 
be  said  to  explain  nothing  whatever.  The  only  kind  of 
explanation  it  gives  is  a  sense  of  completed  inquiry  and 
rest  in  the  contemplation  of  a  supreme  power  that  can 

1  E.  Ray  Lankester,  Degeneration . 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


183 


do  anything.  The  satisfaction  which  accompanies  the 
final  solution  of  a  problem  is  here  reached,  but  only  by 
surrendering  the  problem,  and  without  real  illumination. 

One  should  observe  that  simplicity  in  science  must 
never  be  procured  by  turning  away  from  facts.  Though 
the  creation  process  may  seem  simpler  than  the  evolu¬ 
tionary  one,  the  latter  has  the  tremendous  scientific  ad¬ 
vantage  of  involving  processes  that  have  all  been  actu¬ 
ally  observed  in  nature,  while  all  the  elements  of  the 
former  are  hypothetical.  The  special  creation  theory 
illustrates  two  tendencies  of  the  human  imagination 
which  are  dangerous  to  science.  One  is  the  tendency  to 
speculate  rather  than  to  observe;  the  other  is  the  tend¬ 
ency  of  these  speculations  to  take  an  anthropomorphic 
form,  as  if  all  beings  were  like  men.  We  have  at  once 
too  much  and  too  little  imagination  for  science.  Sci¬ 
entific  imagination  must  be  free  to  conceive  unfamiliar 
processes,  and  at  the  same  time  ready  to  test  its  concep¬ 
tions  by  experience.  It  must  be  bold,  yet  disciplined. 

To  illustrate  these  qualities  of  scientific  imagination, 
and  also  to  show  how  a  broad  generalization  like  evolu¬ 
tion  rests  on  evidence  accumulated  from  many  fields,  was 
the  special  function  of  this  chapter.  It  may  be  pointed 
out,  in  closing,  that  the  question  of  the  ultimate  origin  of 
the  universe  was  not  involved  in  the  problem,  and  there¬ 
fore  was  not  discussed. 

A 

QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  Cite  concrete  examples  of  the  special  creation  hypothesis  from  at 
least  three  ancient  religions. 

2.  What  is  anthropomorphism?  Write  an  account  of  the  living  world 
from  the  point  of  view  of  some  lower  animal;  assuming  that  they 
could  reflect,  how  might  an  ant  or  a  dog  explain  the  existence  of  his 
fellows?  (See  Clarence  Day:  This  Simian  World.) 

3.  What  is  meant  by  “explaining  the  past  in  terms  of  the  present”  ? 


184 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


In  what  two  fundamental  ways  does  the  “scientific  imagination” 
differ  from  the  imagination  manifested  in  popular  mythology? 

4.  Name  ten  results  of  the  process  of  natural  selection,  and  show 
how  they  might  also  be  used  as  evidence  for  the  argument  from 
design. 

5.  Why  does  Darwin  stand  out  preeminently  in  the  history  of  the  the¬ 
ory  of  evolution? 

6.  Give  some  reasons  for  Darwin’s  success  in  a  field  where  many  other 
great  men  failed. 

7.  What  were  the  three  pairs  of  conflicting  hypotheses  in  the  evolution 
controversy? 

8.  What  do  we  mean  by  evidence  accumulating?  Why  is  this  an 
important  matter  for  the  support  of  an  hypothesis? 

9.  What  effect  did  the  idea  of  evolution  have  on  the  traditional  con¬ 
ception  of  biological  classification? 

10.  Outline  the  phases  of  Darwin’s  investigation  in  terms  of  “the 
complete  act  of  thought.” 

11.  Does  evolution  always  mean  progress?  Cite  instances  of  degenera¬ 
tion  in  a  nation;  of  an  organism. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Special  Creation: 

T.  Huxlev,  Science  and  Hebrew  Tradition.  The  Macmillan  Company, 
1893-95. 

O.  Schmidt,  The  Doctrine  of  Descent  and  Darwinism.  D.  Appleton  & 
Co.,  1898. 

K.  A.  von  Zittel,  History  of  Geology  and  Palceontology.  Charles  Scrib¬ 
ner’s  Sons,  1901. 

The  Problem  of  Darwin: 

F.  Darwin,  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Charles  Darwin.  D.  Appleton  &  Co., 
1888. 

H.  F.  Osborn,  From  the  Greeks  to  Darwin.  The  Macmillan  Company, 
1894. 

J.  W.  Judd,  The  Coming  of  Evolution.  Cambridge,  1912. 

F.  Cramer,  The  Method  of  Darwin.  A.  C.  McClurg,  1896. 

J.  A.  Thomson,  The  Outline  of  Science  (vol.  ii).  G.  P.  Putnam’s  Sons, 
1922. 

Evolution : 

W.  B.  Scott,  The  Theory  of  Evolution.  The  Macmillan  Company, 
1921. 

T.  H.  Morgan,  A  Critique  of  the  Theory  of  Evolution.  Princeton,  1919. 

H.  E.  Crampton,  The  Doctrine  of  Evolution.  Columbia  University 
Press,  1919. 

P.  Geddes  and  J.  A.  Thomson,  Evolution.  Home  University  Library. 

Evolution  in  Modem  Thought.  Modem  Library,  Boni  and  Liveright. 

J.  A.  Thomson,  The  Outline  of  Science  (vol.  i). 


EVOLUTION  AS  EXPLANATION 


185 


Progress  and  Evolution : 

E.  R.  Lankester,  The  Advancement  of  Science.  London,  1890.  (Con¬ 
tains  essay  on  Degeneration.) 

R.  S.  Lull,  Organic  Evolution.  The  Macmillan  Company,  1917. 

A.  R.  Wallace,  Social  Environment  and  Moral  Progress.  Funk  and 
Wagnalls,  1913. 

T.  Huxley:  Evolution  and  Ethics . 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HOW  REFLECTIVE  THOUGHT  DEALS  WITH  THE  PAST 
AS  ILLUSTRATED  BY  THE  CRITICISM  OF  THE 

PENTATEUCH 

Section  1.  Character  of  Historical  Inquiry 

We  have  seen  how  scientific  inquiry  deals  with  natural 
phenomena;  that  is,  those  facts  of  experience  which 
can  either  be  reproduced  at  will  or  observed  repeatedly 
as  they  recur.  Borne  scientific  methods,  however,  will 
evidently  fail  us  when  we  seek  to  ascertain  events  in 
the  past ;  for,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  past  events  do  not 
recur  and  cannot  recur.  Historical  events  differ  from 
scientific  events  proper,  in  that  they  cannot  be  proved 
experimentally;  for  they  cannot  he  repeated .  No  doubt 
one  Indian  war  may  be  much  like  another;  but  no  In¬ 
dian  fighter,  General  Miles,  for  example,  ever  did,  or 
ever  could,  duplicate  Custer’s  last  fatal  battle  with  the 
Sioux.  Historical  inquiry,  therefore,  must  resort,  either 
(1)  to  the  after  effects  of  events  gone  by  —  too  often 
mere  vestiges  —  or  (2)  to  the  testimony  of  eye-  and 
ear-witnesses,  all  of  whom,  recent  history  apart,  are 
now  dead.  Geology,  the  history  of  the  physical  earth, 
is  virtually  confined  to  the  first  resource;  human  his¬ 
tory  makes  use  chiefly  of  the  second  —  the  testimony 
of  former  witnesses. 

Historical  inquiry  is  thus  dependent  mainly  upon 
written  testimony,  or  documents.  Hence  it  is,  also, 
largely  a  literary  and  critical  inquiry;  that  is,  it  is  con¬ 
cerned  with  questions  as  to  the  age,  correct  test,  author¬ 
ship,  teachings,  and  design  of  its  documentary  sources. 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


187 


(1)  The  Lower  Criticism.  The  determination  of  the 
true  text  of  an  ancient  manuscript  requires  such  special 
training  that  this  kind  of  investigation  has  become  a  dis¬ 
tinct  branch  of  historico-critical  inquiry.  It  is  known 
as  the  /Tower  criticism/7  or  at  times  “  textual  criticism/7 
criticism  being  the  accepted  name  for  careful  inquiry  into 
the  past  according  to  canons  already  approved  in  experi¬ 
ence.  It  is  called  ‘Tower/7  not  because  it  is  inferior,  but 
because  it  is  concerned  with  the  evidential  foundations 
of  the  subject-matter.  In  most  cases  ancient  books  are 
now  extant  in  the  form  of  various  manuscripts  the  word¬ 
ing  of  which  differs  not  infrequently  one  from  another. 
The  original  manuscripts  were,  of  course,  long  since 
worn  out  or  lost.  Those  of  to-day  are  copies,  and  copies 
of  copies,  indeed  the  last  links  in  a  long  chain  of  copies. 
All  of  these  were  made  by  hand;  and  even  the  best 
copyists  are  subject  to  error.  Omissions  have  been 
made;  additions,  also,  sometimes  in  the  form  of  what 
are  called  “glosses.77  A  “gloss77  is  a  comment  written 
upon  the  margin  of  the  page  by  some  reader,  which  a 
later  scribe,  supposing  it  to  have  been  omitted,  has 
copied  into  the  body  of  the  manuscript.  In  all  such 
cases,  which  is  the  correct  text?  It  is  for  the  “lower 
critic77  to  answer. 

(2)  The  Higher  Criticism.  All  questions  as  to  date, 
authorship,  contents,  and  purpose  fall  within  the  field  of 
the  “higher  critic77;  that  is,  the  inquirer  concerned  with 
the  superstructure  of  record  and  thought  reared  by  the 
author  of  the  book.  In  this  extensive  task  the  higher 
critic  is  not  without  accepted  canons  of  judgment  to 
guide  him;  for  historical  criticism,  learning  partly  from 
its  own  experience  and  partly  from  that  of  the  courts  of 
law,  has  established  certain  principles  of  documentary 


188 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


evidence.  In  practice  these  methods  take  the  form  of 
queries  to  be  applied  to  each  document,  and  are  such 
as  the  following: 

(a)  What  is  the  content  of  the  writing?  that  is, 
What  does  the  witness  actually  say? 

(b)  Who  is  the  witness?  This  question  is  not  one  of 
purely  literary  interest;  it  often  has  a  most  important 
bearing  upon  the  witness’s  competency.  To  answer  it  is 
often  much  harder  than  an  ordinary  reader  might  sup¬ 
pose.  Ancient  writers  were  not  wont  to  put  their  names 
upon  their  manuscripts.  When  the  author’s  name  is 
present,  it  has  usually  been  placed  there  by  a  later 
hand,  probably  that  of  a  copyist.  But  did  the  copyist 
know  who  was  the  author?  If  not,  what  were  the 
grounds  of  his  opinion  on  the  subject?  A  further  diffi¬ 
culty  arises  from  the  fact  that  in  ancient  times  the 
name  attached  to  a  book  as  its  ostensible  author  was 
sometimes  not  that  of  the  writer,  but  of  some  man  of 
distinction  in  an  age  gone  by  whose  putative  authorship 
would  be  likely  to  give  the  book  prestige  and  authority. 

( c )  Another  question  concerns  the  personal  qualifica¬ 
tions  of  the  writer  as  to  character,  competency,  and  op¬ 
portunity.  Was  he  an  eye-  or  ear-witness,  or  does  his  ac¬ 
count  rest  upon  hearsay?  If  parts  of  the  Pentateuch 
were  written  by  Ezra  (in  the  fifth  century  b.c.)  it  is  ob¬ 
vious  that  they  may  not  be  good  evidence  as  to  what 
happened  in  the  time  of  Moses,  over  a  thousand  years 
before.  But  even  eye-witnesses,  as  every  court  of  jus¬ 
tice  knows  full  well,  differ  greatly  in  their  powers  of  ob¬ 
servation,  and  still  more  in  their  capacity  to  report 
events  as  they  actually  saw  them.  For  example,  it  has 
been  shown  that  the  three  principal  eye-witness  ac 
counts  of  so  recent  an  event  as  the  surrender  of  Napo- 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY  189 

leon  III  at  Sedan  vary  in  material  respects,  although  one 
of  the  witnesses  was  the  owner  of  the  house  in  which  the 
capitulation  was  signed,  another  a  prominent  German 
general,  and  the  third  the  noted  war-correspondent, 
Archibald  Forbes. 

In  particular,  it  has  been  found  that  witnesses  have  a 
tendency  both  to  perceive  and  to  remember  things,  first, 
according  to  their  expectations,  second,  according  to 
their  emotional  bias,  and,  third,  according  to  their  pri~ 
vate  notions  as  to  what  would  be  the  natural  or  reason¬ 
able  way  for  things  to  happen.  So  criticism  inquires, 
also,  into  the  personality  of  the  witness,  which  means 
not  only  his  veracity,  but  also  his  mental  tendencies. 
Was  he  a  man  of  sober  frame  of  mind,  or  was  he  imagi¬ 
native  in  his  thinking?  Was  he  chiefly  concerned  with 
actual  events  —  the  facts  —  or  was  his  main  interest 
in  the  political  or  ethical  or  theological  bearings  of 
things? 

(3)  For  most  historical  inquiries  two  kinds  of  evi¬ 
dence  are  available,  external  and  internal . 

(a)  External  evidence  consists  in  such  things  as  refer¬ 
ences  to  the  writing  in  question,  or  quotations  from  it, 
by  contemporary  or  shortly  succeeding  writers.  In  the 
case  of  most  of  the  Old  Testament  books  this  kind  of 
evidence  is  lacking.  The  books  themselves  are  the  only 
survivals  of  early  Hebrew  literature,  and  international 
culture  in  those  days  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  ex¬ 
isted. 

(b)  Internal  evidence  consists  in  all  those  critical  indi¬ 
cations  which  lie  within  the  writing  itself,  such  as  the  lan¬ 
guage  used,  the  literary  style,  the  opinions  expressed  or 
implied,  and  the  historical  and  geographical  references. 
For  instance,  when  in  Isaiah  xliv,  28  Yahveh  is  repre- 


190 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


sented  as  saying  of  “  Cyrus,  He  is  my  shepherd,  and  shall 
perform  all  my  pleasure;  even  saying  of  Jerusalem, 
Thou  shalt  be  built :  and  to  the  temple,  Thy  foundations 
shall  be  laid,”  etc.,  it  is  evident  that  that  part  of  the 
book  was  not  written  by  Isaiah,  who  antedated  Cyrus 
by  a  century  and  a  half.  Nor,  indeed,  was  it  written  be¬ 
fore  the  captivity,  for  evidently  Jerusalem  was  lying 
waste  and  needed  to  be  rebuilt. 

As  an  example  of  historical  inquiry  the  problem  of  the 
origin  and  general  structure  of  the  Pentateuch,  or  first 
five  books  of  the  Bible,  has  been  chosen  for  study,  in  the 
belief  that  it  is  a  case  which  can  be  followed  by  any  in¬ 
telligent  reader. 

Section  2.  The  Traditional  and  Critical  Views  of  the 

Old  Testament 

At  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era,  the  Jewish  lit¬ 
erature  then  current  consisted  chiefly  of  certain  books 
which,  because  of  their  religious  contents,  were  regarded 
as  sacred  and  authoritative.  They  were  known  as  the 
Scriptures,  or  writings.  Later  when  taken  collectively 
ecclesiastical  scholars  called  them  the  canon,  but  the 
popular  name  for  them  became  the  Bible.  These  writ¬ 
ings  were  divided  by  a  writer 1  of  the  second  century  b.c. 
—  probably  not  for  the  first  time  —  into  three  groups, 
“  the  law  and  the  prophets  and  the  rest  of  the  books.”  (1) 
Subsequent  usage  in  the  Talmud,  New  Testament,  and 
Josephus  shows  that  by  the  “Law”  was  meant  the  Pen¬ 
tateuch  —  Genesis,  Exodus,  Leviticus,  Numbers,  and 
Deuteronomy  —  all  of  which  were  attributed  to  Moses 
as  author.  (2)  By  the  ‘  ‘  Prophets  ”  was  meant  of  course, 

1  The  grandson  of  Jesus,  the  son  of  Sirach,  who  about  139  b.c.  trans¬ 
lated  his  grandfather's  Proverbs  into  Greek. 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


191 


the  books  of  Amos,  Hosea,  and  so  forth,  called  the 
“  Later  Prophets,”  Daniel  excepted,  and  also  the  more 
important  of  what  we  now  consider  the  historical  books, 
namely,  Joshua,  Judges,  Samuel,  and  Kings.  These 
were  known  as  the  “  Earlier  Prophets.”  (3)  The  third, 
or  miscellaneous,  group  came  to  be  called  the  “  Sacred 
Writings,”  though  in  point  of  fact  it  was  regarded  as  less 
sacred  than  the  “Law”  or  even  than  the  “Prophets.” 

These  Biblical  writings  are  accepted,  not  only  by  or¬ 
thodox  Jews,  but  by  Mohammedans  and  virtually  all 
Christian  churches  as  true  and  authoritative,  as  are  also 
the  main  Jewish  literary  ideas  concerning  them.  For 
example,  the  Council  of  Trent,  which  in  1564  largely 
stereotyped  the  Roman  Catholic  creed,  pronounced  as 
follows:  “The  sacred  and  holy  oecumenical  and  general 
Synod  of  Trent,  lawfully  assembled  in  the  Holy  Ghost 
. . .  receives  and  venerates  with  an  equal  affection  of  piety 
all  the  books  both  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  see¬ 
ing  that  one  God  is  the  author  of  both.  .  .  .  And  it  has 
thought  it  meet  that  a  list  of  the  sacred  books  be  in¬ 
serted  in  this  decree,”  etc.  At  the  end  of  the  list  the  de¬ 
cree  adds,  “if  any  one  receive  not  as  sacred  and  ca¬ 
nonical  the  said  books  entire  with  all  their  parts  ...  let 
him  be  anathema.”  In  general  the  Protestant  churches 
have  concurred  in  these  statements  although  the  latter 
do  not  accept  the  so-called  “ apocrypha”  as  inspired. 

This  brief  historical  sketch  reveals  two  connected, 
but  quite  distinguishable,  things : 

(1)  The  existence  prior  to  the  Christian  era  of  a  col¬ 
lection  of  books  accepted  as  sacred,  the  first  five  of 
which  (the  “Law”  or  Pentateuch)  current  Jewish  opin¬ 
ion  assigned  to  the  initial  period  of  Israel's  history 
and  attributed  to  one  author,  Moses  —  Israel's  origi- 


192  REFLECTIVE  THINKING 

nal  legislator,  and  traditional  liberator  from  Egyptian 
bondage. 

(2)  A  remarkable  consensus  of  opinion  as  to  the  su¬ 
pernatural  character  and  authority  of  these  books,  an 
authority  varying  in  degree  usually  in  direct  proportion 
to  their  reputed  age.  Thus  the  Protestant  Westminster 
Confession  declares  concerning  them,  “All  which  are 
given  by  inspiration  of  God,  to  be  the  rule  of  faith  and 
life.”  These  opinions  as  to  age,  authorship,  and  author¬ 
ity  constitute  the  traditional  view  of  the  Old  Testament 
and  of  the  Pentateuch  as  its  oldest  and  most  sacred  por¬ 
tion. 

Over  against  this  age-long  and  cumulatively  but¬ 
tressed  body  of  opinion  the  modern  critic  has  dared  to 
offer  another  account  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  and  to 
advocate  it  as  rationally  superior.  According  to  him 
the  Old  Testament  is  the  selected  literature  of  an  ancient, 
developing  people,  the  selective  criterion  (used  more  or 
less  subconsciously)  being  that  of  religious  and  patriotic 
value. 

(1)  As  in  Greece  and  other  seats  of  early  culture,  the 
literary  beginnings  consisted  of  songs,  such  as  the  song 
of  Miriam,  the  song  of  Moses,  and  the  song  of  Deborah. 
(Exod.  xv,  1-19,  21;  Judges  v.)  Professor  Sanday 
characterizes  them  as  “impassioned  utterances  of  the 
natural  man.”  They  are  strong  in  group  loyalty,  and 
breathe  a  lively  devotion  to  Yahveh  as  the  tribal  God. 

(2)  The  next  type  of  writing  to  appear  was  that  of 
history ,  or  quasi-history,  though  much  legal  material 
was  included  in  it.  In  the  main  the  Pentateuch  is  a 
synthesized  and  edited  collection  of  parts  of  three  his¬ 
torical  writings,  parts  selected  by  a  fourth  and  later 
hand,  a  hand  which  added  no  little  material  of  its  own 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


193 


and  thus  became  the  author  of  the  Pentateuch  as  a 
whole.  Except  in  the  case  of  Deuteronomy  the  parts 
selected  from  older  documents  do  not  correspond  with 
the  traditional  divisions  of  the  Pentateuch. 

(a)  One  of  the  original  sources  used  is  now  known  as 
the  Elohist,  owing  to  the  fact  that,  along  with  his  other 
distinctive  characteristics,  the  author,  down  to  the  Mo¬ 
saic  period,  uses  the  name  Elohim  for  the  national  God. 
His  narrative  —  technically  known  as  E  —  is  annalistic. 
It  includes  many  genealogical  lists,  and  lays  weight 
upon  orderly  development.  The  author  was  a  citizen 
of  the  northern  kingdom,  which  means,  of  course,  that 
he  wrote  after  the  time  of  Solomon,  and  is  by  no  means 
to  be  identified  with  Moses. 

( b )  Another  leading  Pentateuehal  author  is  known  as 
the  Jehovist ,  or  Yahvist ,  because  from  the  very  first  he 
calls  the  divinity  by  his  tribal  or  covenant  name  of  Yah- 
veh.  His  contribution  is  called  J  (Jehovist).  He  gives 
another  and  strikingly  different  account  of  the  creation. 
He  treats  the  early  history  from  the  ethical  and  theo¬ 
logical  viewpoint  of  prophetism,  and  seems  to  have  lived 
in  the  kingdom  of  Judah.  Manuscripts  E  and  J  origi¬ 
nated  apparently  between  the  time  of  Solomon  and  the 
eighth  century  prophets  (Hosea,  Amos,  etc.),  and  at  a 
relatively  early  date  were  so  combined  that  in  places 
they  are  not  now  distinguishable.  So  they  are  some¬ 
times  referred  to  together  as  J.  E. 

(c)  The  third  historical  factor  is  Deuteronomy,  which 
made  its  appearance  in  the  reign  of  Josiah  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  seventh  century,  b.c.  It  contains  much 
legal  and  ecclesiastical  material,  but  is  written  largely 
from  the  prophetic  point  of  view.  It  was  perhaps  the 
outcome  of  a  compromise  between  the  prophetic  and  the 


194 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


priestly  parties.  Its  aim  was,  on  the  one  side,  a  stricter 
monotheism  and,  on  the  other,  a  more  equitable  social 
order.  It  was  apparently  a  product,  and  certainly  an 
instrument,  of  the  notable  prophetic  reformation  ef¬ 
fected  under  King  Josiah.  Its  references  to  addresses 
made  to  the  people  by  Moses  were  literary  devices  for 
claiming  the  authority  of  the  great  deliverer  of  old,  an 
authority  which  the  author  doubtless  believed  was  on 
his  side;  but  there  is  no  reason  to  think  that  he  had 
more  than  possibly  an  oral  tradition  to  justify  him. 
The  Book  of  the  Covenant  (Exod.  xxi-xxiii)  already 
ascribed  to  Moses  may  have  been  a  written  source 
utilized  by  the  author. 

(d)  The  fourth  and  all-inclusive  section  of  the  Penta¬ 
teuch  is  primarily  legal,  and  especially  occupied  with 
ceremonial  matters.  It  is  known  as  P,  because  it  ap¬ 
pears  to  have  been  the  work  of  a  priest,  or  of  a  partisan 
of  the  priestly  ideals  and  interests.  It  dates  from  the 
Jewish  restoration  in  the  fifth  century  b.c.  under  Nehe- 
miah  and  Ezra,  and  Ezra  probably  was  its  author.  The 
ceremonial  law  as  proclaimed  by  him  was  a  combination 
of  prophetic  and  priestly  factors,  factors  which  had 
formerly  been  often  at  variance,  but  which  the  tribula¬ 
tions  of  deportation  and  captivity  had  brought  into 
temporary  accord.  Religious  ritual  and  rules  regulat¬ 
ing  it  there  had  been,  of  course,  from  very  early  times, 
and  it  had  been  increasing  in  amount  for  generations 
prior  to  the  fall  of  Jerusalem.  These  ceremonial  pro¬ 
visions  Ezra  incorporated  into  his  edition  of  the  Mosaic 
law;  but  many  of  his  rules  appear  to  have  had  no  stand¬ 
ing  in  that  law  before  his  time,  unless  it  be  in  the  minds 
of  certain  priestly  zealots.  As  a  completed  whole  the 
Pentateuch  thus  arose  in  one  of  the  later  stages  of  He- 
.  brew  history  and  by  no  means  at  the  outset. 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


195 


In  this  critical  view  of  the  Pentateuch  the  most  fun- 

/ 

damental  contentions  appear  to  be  two:  (1)  In  general 
its  older  parts  are  not  now  in  their  original  form,  but 
have  been  expanded  or  curtailed,  cast  and  recast,  in 
later  times.  (2)  The  Pentateuch,  and  indeed  most  of 
our  present  Old  Testament  books,  are  composite,  being 
constituted  largely,  and  through  various  editing  proc¬ 
esses,  of  the  older  writings  just  referred  to. 

The  opposition  between  these  two  views  is  evidently 
great.  To  the  conservative  believer  the  critic  seems  to 
be  unreasonable  and  presumptuous  in  thus  challenging 
(as  one  such 1  says)  “convictions  which  have  come  down 
unchallenged  from  the  earliest  Jewish  age  until  what 
may  be  called  yesterday.”  John  Stuart  Blackie’s  re¬ 
mark  about  the  criticism  of  the  Iliad  is  cited:  “We  who 
stand  on  the  recognized  text  have  the  tradition  of  long 
centuries  in  our  favor. . . .  Possession  in  literary,  as  in 
civil,  matters  is  nine  points  of  the  law.”  Indeed,  the 
very  concessions  of  the  new  interpreters  favor  the  charge 
of  presumption.  “The  critic,”  says  Professor  Kuenen, 
“has  no  other  Bible  than  the  public.  He  does  not  pro¬ 
fess  to  have  any  additional  documents,  inaccessible  to 
the  laity,  nor  does  he  profess  to  find  anything  in  his 
Bible  that  the  ordinary  reader  cannot  see. ...  Yet  he 
dares  to  form  a  conception  of  Israel's  religious  develop¬ 
ment  totally  different  from  that  which,  as  any  one  may 
see,  is  set  forth  in  the  Old  Testament.” 

Nor  is  the  critic  able  to  appeal  to  archaeology  for  sup¬ 
port.  The  monuments  and  other  material  remains  of 
ancient  times  do  not  contradict  the  traditional  view. 
The  opposition  between  the  two  views  is  thus  not  prop¬ 
erly  one  as  to  the  facts,  but  one  as  to  the  right  interpre- 

1  John  Kennedy,  D.D. 


106 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


tation  of  the  facts.  Opposite  ways  of  thinking  are 
involved.  This  thought  opposition  will  appear  more 
clearly  if  we  follow  the  critic  in  a  few  of  his  reasonings. 

Section  3.  Some  of  the  Critical  Arguments 

All  of  these  are  appeals  to  internal ,  not  external,  evi¬ 
dence.  In  the  first  place,  the  critic  points  to  the  com¬ 
posite  character  of  the  Pentateuch .  That  the  book  of  Prov¬ 
erbs  is  a  collection  of  writings  of  various  authorship 
probably  no  Biblical  student  will  deny.  The  first  nine 
chapters,  attributed  by  the  text  to  Solomon,  and  headed 
repeatedly  with  the  words,  “My  son,”  are  plainly  differ¬ 
ent  in  style  from  the  succeeding  thirteen  chapters,  which 
have  a  fresh  title  and  do  not  use  that  form  of  address. 
Other  parts  of  the  book  are  attributed  to  “the  wise,” 
to  Agur,  to  King  Lemuel,  while  the  conclusion  (an  alpha¬ 
betical  acrostic)  appears  to  be  anonymous.  Much  the 
same  is  true  of  the  book  of  Psalms.  Five  distinct  hymn- 
books  are  plainly  in  evidence,  each  having  a  concluding 
doxology,  and  each  made  up  apparently  with  no  more 
regard  for  authorship  than  a  modem  hymn-book.  Evi¬ 
dently  literary  compilation  was  nothing  foreign  to  an¬ 
cient  Hebrew  composition. 

In  the  Pentateuch  the  composite  structure  is  natu¬ 
rally  not  so  obvious;  but  surely  few  who  believe  that 
Moses  was  its  author  will  deny  that  verses  5  to  12  in  the 
34th  chapter  of  Deuteronomy  were  written  by  a  later 
hand  than  his.  Even  with  the  utmost  good-will,  one 
can  scarcely  believe  that  Moses  wrote  the  account  of  his 
own  death  and  burial,  and  then  added,  “No  man  know - 
eth  of  his  sepulchre  unto  this  day.”  Such  a  remark  could 
come  with  propriety  only  from  one  who  wrote  long  af¬ 
terward,  with  the  admission  of  which  truth,  be  it  noted, 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


197 


the  higher  criticism  of  the  Pentateuch  has  begun.  It 
cannot  stop  there,  however. 

A  composite  character  appears  manifestly  in  the  Pen¬ 
tateuch’s  inclusion  of  the  songs  of  Lamech,  of  Balaam, 
of  Moses,  of  Miriam,  etc.  It  is  almost  equally  evident 
in  the  duplicate  and  variant  accounts  of  certain  events. 
The  first  two  chapters  of  Genesis  offer  us  two  descrip¬ 
tions  of  creation,  descriptions  which  disagree  in  material 
respects.  In  the  first  account,  man  as  a  species  (“male 
and  female”)  is  the  last  and  crowning  product  of  the 
creative  process;  in  the  second  account,  man  as  male  is 
produced  early  in  that  process;  and  afterwards  plants, 
animals,  and  finally  woman,  are  created  to  keep  him 
company.  In  the  story  of  the  flood,  too,  Noah  is  first 
directed  to  preserve  two  specimens  (one  couple)  of 
every  species,  without  distinction  of  clean  or  unclean; 
then,  without  suggestion  of  any  divine  change  of  mind, 
the  command  is  to  save  seven  couples  of  the  clean  beasts 
(Gen.  vi.  19 ;  vn,  2) .  Jacob’s  change  of  name  is  recorded 
twice,  and  the  event  located  in  different  places,  first  at 
Peniel,  second  at  Bethel  (Gen.  xxxii,  27-30;  xxxv,  10, 
15).  Two  explanations  of  the  name  Bethel  (house  of 
God)  are  furnished.  One  connects  it  with  Jacob’s  vision 
of  angels  and  the  heavenly  ladder  on  his  way  to  the  east; 
the  other  with  his  meeting  with  God  on  his  return  from 
the  east  (Gen.  xxvm,  10-22 ;  xxxv,  9-15) .  The  death  of 
Aaron  is  recorded  twice;  and  located  once  on  Mount 
Hor,  and  once  at  Mosera  (Num.  xxxm,  38;  Deut.  x,  6). 
So,  too,  the  separation  of  the  tribe  of  Levi  for  sacramen¬ 
tal  purposes  is  related  twice,  and  with  different  accom¬ 
paniments  (Num.  hi,  5-8;  Deut.  x,  8).  Three  variant 
accounts  of  the  laughter  in  connection  with  the  birth  of 
Isaac  are  given  (Gen.  xvn,  17;  xvm,  12;  xxi,  6),  two  of 


198 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Hagar’s  expulsion  from  Abraham’s  tent  (Gen.  xvi,  4-14; 
xxi,  9-21),  and  two  of  Moses’  reluctance  to  go  to  Pha¬ 
raoh,  in  one  of  which  it  is  promised  that  Moses  shall 
be  “as  God ”  to  Aaron,  and  in  the  other  “as  God  to 
Pharaoh”  (Ex.  iv,  10-16;  vi,  29  to  vn,  2).  The  spies 
sent  into  Canaan  are  differently  commissioned  in  two  , 
places,  and  the  reports  credited  to  them  on  their  return 
are  conflicting,  one  being  highly  favorable  to  the  nat¬ 
ural  character  of  the  country,  while  the  other  describes 
it  as  “a  land  that  eateth  up  the  inhabitants  thereof” 
(Num.  xiii,  2,  3,  21,  and  17-20,  22,  26,  27,  32).  There 
are  three  distinct  references  to  the  divine  covenant 
name,  Yahveh.  According  to  Gen.  iv,  26  (part  of  the 
J.  document),  this  name  was  known  to  Adam’s  grand¬ 
children,1  whereas  in  Ex.  vi,  2,  3, 6, 8  (part  of  the  P  doc¬ 
ument),  God  is  represented  as  saying  to  Moses,  “I  am 
Yahveh,  and  I  appeared  unto  Abraham,  unto  Isaac, 
and  unto  Jacob,  as  God  Almighty,  but  by  my  name 
Yahveh2  I  was  not  known  to  them.”  Yet  in  Ex.  in, 
13-16  (the  E  document),  the  charge  unto  Moses  is, 
“Say  unto  the  children  of  Israel,  Yahveh,  the  God  of 
your  fathers  .  .  .  hath  sent  me  unto  you.  This  is  my 
name  forever,”  etc. 

Coincident  with  these  differences  in  statement  are 
differences  in  style,  which  critics  regard  as  also  pointing 
to  multiple  authorship.  Our  space  limitations  forbid 
their  description  here.  Differences,  too,  in  theological 
conception  are  not  uncommon.  Thus  in  the  first  account 

1  The  name  usually  translated  into  English  “  the  Lord  ”  is  in  the  He¬ 
brew  text,  Yahveh. 

2  The  word  Jehovah ,  which  appears  here  in  the  Revised  Version,  is  due 
to  the  practice  of  pronouncing  the  consonants  in  Yahveh  by  means  of  the 
vowels  in  the  Hebrew  word  for  “  the  Lord,”  Yahveh  having  become  tabu 
long  before  the  Christian  era. 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


199 


of  creation  (the  E  MSS.)  the  process  is  by  pure  fiat, 
while  in  the  second  account  it  is  by  a  kind  of  experimen¬ 
tation.  After  the  human  male  had  been  formed  and  put 
in  charge  of  the  Garden  of  Eden,  “  Yahveh  God  said  [ap¬ 
parently  as  a  new  discovery],  It  is  not  good  that  the 
man  should  be  alone/’  whereupon  the  beasts  and  birds 
and  woman  were  created.  It  was  only  then,  too,  it  would 
seem,  that  Yahveh  realized  the  need  of  names  for  these 
creatures,  for  then  He  “  brought  them  unto  the  man  to 
see  what  he  would  call  them  ” 

A  second  argument  alleges  the  comparatively  late  date 
and  non-Mosaic  authorship  of  the  Pentateuch  as  such . 
The  grounds  of  this  contention  could  easily  be  given  in 
detail,  as  in  the  sub-section  above,  did  space  permit. 
We  shall  have  to  confine  ourselves  to  a  few  examples. 

(1)  The  topographical  references  often  indicate  that 
the  author  was  a  resident  of  Palestine  and  not  of  the 
Sinaitic  wilderness.  In  Deuteronomy  i,  1,  he  states  that 
the  words  of  Moses  were  spoken  “  beyond  Jordan  in 
the  wilderness”  —  a  description  which  implies  that  the 
writer  was  on  the  Canaan  side  of  the  river,  which  Moses 
never  was.  Moreover,  his  phrase  for  westward  was  sea¬ 
ward,  which  would  not  be  correct  at  Sinai;  and  for  south¬ 
ward  it  was  “toward  the  Negeb”  (or  “parched  land”)  — 
the  dry  steppe  in  the  south  of  Judah.  This  again  was 
an  expression  which  a  Hebrew  would  use  only  if  he  was  a 
resident  of  Palestine. 

(2)  The  historical  books  show  that  much  of  the  Pen¬ 
tateuch  was  unknown  to  Israel  prior  to  the  time  of  Jo- 
siah,  late  in  the  seventh  century,  b.c.  On  the  religious 
and  ceremonial  side  the  distinctive  thing  about  Deuter¬ 
onomy  is  its  insistence  upon  the  restriction  of  the  sacri¬ 
fices  to  Jerusalem  and  the  Temple,  and  the  destruction 


200 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


of  the  “high  places”  or  rival  local  altars.  King  Josiah 
yielded  to  this  demand,  but  at  first  with  no  little  as¬ 
tonishment.  The  people  at  large  must  have  been  as¬ 
tonished  also ;  for  the  high  places,  with  their  associated 
pillars  and  poles,  had  been  in  use  for  the  worship  of 
Yahveh  from  the  time  of  the  patriarchs  down.  Samuel 
and  Saul  sacrificed  to  Yahveh  repeatedly  on  the  high 
places.  So  did  the  youthful  King  Solomon,  going  to 
Gibeon — described  as  “the  great  high  place  ”  of  the  time 
—  and  there  Yahveh  appeared  to  him  (Judg.  xi,  11, 
xx,  1;  1  Sam.  vn,  6,  9-11,  17;  ix,  12-14,  25;  x,  3,  5,  13; 
xiv,  35;  1  Kings  hi,  4,  5  ff.)  Elijah  at  Mount  Carmel, 
as  the  very  champion  of  Yahveh,  “repaired  the  altar  of 
Yahveh  that  was  thrown  down,”  and  succeeded  in 
bringing  down  upon  it  Yahveh ’s  baptism  of  fire.  Thus 
an  old  Yahvist  altar,  far  from  Jerusalem,  and  from  the 
Deuteronomic  point  of  view  utterly  improper,  is  dra¬ 
matically  recognized  by  the  divinity.  A  little  later,  at 
Horeb,  it  is  one  of  Elijah's  chief  grievances  that  “the 
children  of  Israel ”  had  “thrown  down ”  Yahveh \s  altars, 
which  evidently  were  many,  and  none  of  them  doubt¬ 
less  at  Jerusalem  in  the  neighboring  kingdom  of  Judah. 
In  other  words,  Elijah  deplores  as  the  triumph  of 
heathenism  the  very  acts  which  nearly  three  centuries 
later  Josiah  did  in  obedience  to  what  purported  to  be 
the  law  of  Moses!  (1  Kings  xviii,  30,  38;  xix,  14;  2 
Kings  xxii,  11;  xxiii,  2-9.) 

As  the  legislation  of  Deuteronomy  exalted  the  Jerusa¬ 
lem  Temple  worship,  so  the  legislation  of  Ezra  exalted 
the  priesthood,  or  clergy.  This  also  was  evidently  a 
new  order  of  things.  Samuel  belonged  to  no  priestly  or 
Levitical  family;  yet,  even  as  a  child,  he  ministered  be¬ 
fore  Yahveh,  wearing  the  ephod  and  the  high-priestly 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


m 


.nan tie.  He  actually  slept  “in  the  temple  of  Yahveh, 
where  the  ark  of  God  was"  —  a  thing  sacrilegious  under 
the  full  Pentateuchal  system  —  and  on  various  occa¬ 
sions  seems  to  have  offered  public  sacrifices.  (1  Sam. 
[X,  10-14,  19,  25;  xiii,  7-12;  xvi,  2-5.) 

Such  facts  as  the  above,  which  are  but  a  few  out  of 
nany  open  to  the  observation  of  any  careful  reader  of 
the  Old  Testament,  have  been  the  ready  material  of  the 
hostile  critic  —  the  so-called  “infidel”  —  for  genera¬ 
tions.  Sometimes  they  are  called  “contradictions,” 
sometimes  the  “mistakes  of  Moses”;  and  are  cited  as 
evidence  of  the  untrustworthiness  of  the  Bible.  How 
should  an  intelligent  reader  regard  them?  The  usual 
course  of  the  religious  believer  has  been  not  to  regard 
them  at  all  —  to  ignore  them;  which  is  plainly  deserting 
the  field  to  the  enemy.  To  the  historico-literary  critic 
they  are  not  proofs  of  the  dishonesty  of  the  Biblical 
writers,  but  simply  evidences  that  those  writers  were 
lacking  in  trained  historical  judgment  and  used  their 
documentary  sources  in  an  uncritical  way. 

Section  4-  The  Main  Logical  Methods  of  the  Rival 

Schools 

A.  The  Critical  Methods . 

From  the  survey  just  made  of  the  critical  arguments, 
fragmentary  as  it  necessarily  was,  the  general  character 
of  the  inquiry  must  now  be  evident.  First  of  all ,  it  is 
manifestly  an  appeal  to  the  facts  of  the  subject-matter; 
second ,  it  is  an  interpretation  of  those  facts  according  to 
recognized  historical  canons.  More  particularly  Old 
Testament  critical  inquiry  is  governed  by  the  two  great 
logical  principles  of  science  known  as  “positivism”  and 
“scientific  analogy.”  The  latter  principle  has  been  con- 


202 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


sidered  in  Chapter  VI,  and  will  be  referred  to  later.  Pos¬ 
itivism  is  the  cardinal  rule  of  science  that  the  most  cer¬ 
tain  and  the  most  authoritative  elements  of  knowledge 
are  the  empirical  facts;  that  is,  the  things  vouched  for  by 
the  direct  evidence  of  the  senses  —  our  own  senses  or 
those  of  others.  The  other  prominent  factor  in  knowl¬ 
edge,  namely,  the  ideas  which  the  mind  adds  to  these 
facts  (explanations,  laws,  etc.),  must  be  accommodated 
to  the  facts,  not  vice  versa.  For  science  ideas,  no  matter 
how  venerable  or  imposing,  are  never  coercive  until  the 
empirical  facts  make  them  so.  Now,  this  is  precisely 
the  attitude  of  the  higher  critic  to  the  facts  of  Old 
Testament  history  and  life.  He  dares  to  maintain 
revolutionary  conclusions  in  the  face  of  ideas  clo tiled 
with  all  the  prestige  of  age-long  opinion  and  ecclesiasti¬ 
cal  pronouncements,  because  those  conclusions  are  the 
coercive  results  of  a  careful  and  unbiased  examination 
of  the  historical  facts. 

B.  Methods  of  the  Traditional  School. 

Modern  scholarship  has  gone  over  to  the  critical  view 
primarily  because  of  its  scientific  character;  but,  also,  in 
no  small  degree  because  of  its  confirmed  distrust  of  the 
intellectual  methods  of  the  older  view.  In  so  far  as 
these  are  distinctive,  they  may  be  reduced  to  three  — 
tradition,  authority,  and  a  priori  reasoning. 

(1)  Tradition  is  the  handing  down  from  parent  to 
child,  or  teacher  to  pupil,  of  observations  and  ideas  of 
the  past.  This  is  done  mostly  by  word  of  mouth;  but 
not  infrequently  tradition’s  story,  at  some  point  in  its 
course,  becomes  more  or  less  fixed  by  being  reduced  to 
tariting. 

The  present-day  power  of  tradition  appears  to  lie  in 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


203 


the  strong  influence  upon  the  mind  of  ideas  received  by 
it  in  its  early,  formative  period,  when  interest  is  keen  and 
impressions  deep,  reinforced  by  continual  social  sugges¬ 
tion  in  the  form  of  the  expressed  opinions  of  others,  the 
recitation  of  catechisms,  creeds,  etc.  This  influence  of 
the  ideas  of  older  generations,  this  functioning  of  the 
past  in  the  present,  is  proper  enough  in  childhood;  for 
only  through  it  can  the  new  personality  of  the  child 
come  into  vital  touch  with  the  life  of  society;  but  it  is  no 
longer  to  be  approved  when  the  mind  reaches  maturity 
and  becomes  capable  of  judging  things  for  itself.  Its 
factors  are  ordinarily  strong  determinants  of  convic¬ 
tion;  but  in  the  field  of  thought  their  condemnation  is 
that  they  are  as  effective  on  the  side  of  wrong  as  of  right 
beliefs. 

No  doubt  there  are  cases  where  tradition  is  a  quasi- 
historical  source,  from  which  critical  inquiry  can  derive 
certain  probabilities  as  to  past  events  otherwise  unas- 
certainable;  but  even  this  standing  is  not  to  be  conceded 
to  ecclesiastical  tradition  regarding  the  Old  Testament. 
It  fails  to  cite  a  single  eye-  or  ear-witness  in  support  of 
its  major  claims.  Its  evidence,  when  traced  up,  leads 
only  to  the  opinions  of  men  —  Josephus,  for  example  — 
who  lived  long  after  the  events  they  mention,  and  wha- 
well  may  have  known  no  more  about  them  than  any 
well-read  man  of  to-day. 

(2)  Another  main  support  of  the  traditional  view  is 
authority.  Like  tradition  this  is  largely  a  matter  of  ac¬ 
cepting  ideas  by  social  suggestion,  and  without  any  se¬ 
rious  question  as  to  their  rational  grounds.  Authority 
stands  primarily  for  what  the  psychologist  calls  “pres¬ 
tige  suggestion”  —  the  docile  acceptance  of  ideas 
vouched  for  by  men  who  are  regarded  as  superior,  either 


204 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


in  learning  or  ability  or  position.  Among  such  men  are 
the  venerated  heroes  and  teachers  of  the  past,  and  at 
this  point  authority  and  tradition  merge;  but  the  au¬ 
thoritative  teacher  may  also  be  in  the  present,  and  his 
deliverances  relatively  new  and  untraditional,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Pope’s  encyclical  letter  condemning  “  mod¬ 
ernism.”  Authority  in  belief  may  also  be  recognized 
as  residing  in  a  great  institution,  such  as  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  or  in  a  venerated  book,  such  as  the 
Bible  or  the  Koran. 

Authority  often  owes  much  to  the  reinforcement  of  its 
teachings  by  associated  emotions  and  interests,  as  in  the 
case  of  religion  and  patriotism.  Some  words,  as  Lowell 
says, 

• 

“  have  drawn  transcendent  meanings  up 
From  the  best  passion  of  all  by-gone  time, 

Steeped  through  with  tears  of  triumph  and  remorse, 

Sweet  with  all  sainthood,  cleansed  in  martyr  fires.” 

Such  words  naturally  have  a  vitality,  a  sacredness,  and 
a  compelling  force,  with  which  their  mere  rational  co¬ 
gency  would  never  have  endowed  them.  Now,  in  the 
wide  sphere  of  active  life  and  purpose  these  personal 
and  emotional  —  that  is,  essentially  authoritative  — 
factors  in  received  beliefs  are  often  of  large  importance 
and  value ;  for,  in  the  last  analysis,  life  is  more  of  a  ven¬ 
ture  than  an  applied  science.  In  the  field  of  reflective 
inquiry,  however,  where  conclusions  are  sought  which 
will  fit  in  with  all  the  rest  of  things  in  experience,  these 
warm  human  determinants  are  out  of  place,  indeed,  in¬ 
truders;  for  they  tend  to  override  reason,  and  bias  the 
intellectual  outcome  in  an  irrational  way. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  qualified  authority  recognized  in 
science,  the  authority  of  the  proved  expert;  but  this, 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


205 


although  proper,  since  it  has  been  earned  by  laborious 
research  and  the  attainment  of  special  competence,  is 
merely  relative.  It  has  its  limits,  and  is  always  subject 
to  correction  by  the  judgment  of  other  experts  in  the 
same  field.  With  this  exception  scientific  inquiry  now 
has  no  place  for  authority  in  intellectual  matters,  be  it 
seated  in  exalted  persons,  in  widespread  vogue,  in  in¬ 
stitutions,  in  books,  or  in  creeds.  For  science  it  matters 
not  in  the  least  how  many  men  have  believed,  and  what 
notable  religious  leaders  have  taught,  that  Moses  wrote 
Deuteronomy,  if  none  of  them  was  qualified  to  form  a 
scientific  opinion  on  the  subject.  Their  views  are  to  be 
classed  with  the  opinion  of  the  overwhelming  majority 
of  the  race,  past  and  present,  that  the  earth  is  a  flat  disc. 

The  traditional  view  of  the  Pentateuch  is,  of  course, 
abundantly  supported  by  ecclesiastical  authority  repre¬ 
sented  in  church  fathers,  prelates,  councils,  etc.,  and 
with  impressive  references  to  the  penalty  of  anathema; 
but  it  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  any  expert  authority  on 
its  side.  The  nearest  approach  to  that  is  the  teaching 
of  Saint  Jerome  —  an  eminent  student  of  Hebrew  who 
about  400  a.d.  translated  the  Scriptures  into  Latin, 
making  what  is  now  known  as  the  Vulgate  version.  Je¬ 
rome  himself,  however,  did  not  claim  to  be  a  Hebrew  ex¬ 
pert,  but  invited  his  critics,  of  whom  then  there  were 
many,  to  “ask  the  most  trustworthy  Jew  you  can  find, 
and  see  if  he  does  not  agree  with  me.”  That  is,  Jerome 
put  into  the  Vulgate,  not  his  own  critical  judgment,  but 
the  tradition  of  his  Jewish  teachers!  Thus  the  second 
support  of  the  traditional  view  proves  likewise  to  be  a 
broken  reed. 

(3)  The  remaining  support  of  that  view  is  a  priori 
reasoning;  that  is,  reasoning  conditioned  and  controlled 


206 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


by  initial  assumptions.  This  in  its  place  may  be  valid. 
In  mathematics,  for  example,  the  reasoning  is  a  priori; 
but  then  mathematics  does  not  pretend  to  yield  true 
conclusions  about  the  actual  world  of  objects  and 
events,  except  in  so  far  as  that  objective  world  corre¬ 
sponds  with  its  own  hypothetical  world.  Theological 
reasoning,  however,  is  wont  to  start  out  with  large  exist¬ 
ential  assumptions;  that  is,  assumptions  with  the  stand¬ 
ing,  not  of  hypothesis,  but  of  metaphysical  and  ethical 
certainties.  For  example,  an  American  work  on  natural 
theology,1  which  had  much  vogue  a  generation  or  two 
ago,  argues  regarding  the  Scriptures  as  follows:  A  di¬ 
vinely  inspired  Bible  is  a  “  moral  necessity,  because  the 
moral  constitution  of  man  implies,  in  order  to  its  devel¬ 
opment,  a  written  revelation.”  Man  is  “a  cultivable 
being,”  but  “no  species  of  things  can  improve  itself . . . 
the  culture  must  come  in  all  cases  from  a  nature  higher 
than  their  own.” 2  Essential  to  the  process  of  improve¬ 
ment  from  above  is  a  knowledge  by  man  of  God’s  moral 
nature,  which  can  be  produced  only  through  a  written 
revelation.  “Without  revealed  truth,  reason  has  no 
data,  faith  is  mere  credulity,  and  conscience  is  misdi¬ 
rected.”  Thus  “the  moral  constitution  of  man  de¬ 
mands  a  revelation  ab  extra  —  from  without  —  as  its 
complement.” 

So  much  for  the  apologist.  It  is  evident  that,  if  his  in¬ 
itial  assumptions  are  granted,  there  is  much  force  in  his 
plea.  Man’s  need  of  guidance  and  of  incitement  by 
something  higher  than  himself  is  assuredly  great.  But 
how  does  this  need,  however  sore,  prove  the  existence  of 

1  J.  B  Walker,  Philosophy  of  the  Plan  of  Salvation,  New  York,  1841. 

2  This  is  an  Aristotelian  idea.  It  is  found  also  in  the  New  Testament; 
cf.  John  iii,  3. 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


207 


what  will  satisfy  it?  Evidently  only  on  the  author’s  con¬ 
fident  assumption  that  the  world  has  a  supreme  moral 
Governor,  who  is  intent  upon  bringing  men  to  their 
highest  possible  development.  That  is,  this  theological 
writer  starts  his  argument  with  a  theory  of  history. 
Now,  it  is  doubtless  true  that  some  working  historical 
theory  must  underlie  an  account  of  events,  if  it  is  to  be 
properly  history  and  not  mere  annals;  but  what  kind  of 
a  theory?  The  traditional  view  holds  that  it  should  be 
paternalistic,  assuming  a  purposive  and  superintending 
Providence  to  be  in  charge  of  human  affairs;  and  it 
chooses  this  theory  apparently  because  it  is  interested 
chiefly  in  moral  and  religious  ends  —  the  guidance  of 
practical  life  and  the  increase  of  peace  and  hope.  The 
critical  view,  on  the  other  hand,  being  swayed  by  an  in¬ 
tellectual  rather  than  a  moral  interest  —  a  desire  to 
learn  how  things  actually  happen  in  the  world1  and 
to  frame  a  coherent  and  credible  account  of  events  — 
adopts  the  naturalistic  theory,  according  to  which  the 
history  of  every  people  is  a  natural  development,  an 
unfolding  of  its  nature  —  that  is,  of  group  life  and 
thought  —  under  the  conditioning  influences  of  the  en¬ 
vironment  and  of  historical  circumstance.  From  this 
point  of  view,  which  has  opened  up  discoveries  in  the 
study  of  other  ancient  peoples,  Hebrew  literature  is  to 
be  presumed,  in  the  absence  of  serious  evidence  to  the 
contrary,  to  have  arisen  in  ways  similar  to  the  literature 
of  other  ancient  peoples  —  those  of  Babylon  and  Greece, 
for  example  —  and  is  to  be  interpreted  by  the  same  gen- 

1  The  temper  of  the  critical  view  was  well  expressed  by  a  wise  moralist 
nearly  two  centuries  ago:  “The  constitution  of  nature  is  as  it  is.” 
“Things  and  actions  are  what  they  are,  and  the  consequences  of  them 
will  be  what  they  will  be;  why,  then,  should  we  desire  to  be  deceived?” 
(Bishop  Butler,  Sermon  VII,  last  paragraph.) 


£08 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


eral  canons.  A  true  understanding  of  it  demands  that 
we  reconstruct  imaginatively  the  historical  situation  in 
which  its  various  parts,  or  books,  arose. 

Does  modern  scholarship,  then,  regard  historical  ac¬ 
curacy  as  more  important  than  moral  welfare?  By  no 
means;  but  it  holds  that,  when  historical  results  are  the 
ends  sought ,  considerations  of  moral  welfare  are  irrele¬ 
vant.  To  appeal  to  them  for  interpretation  of  state¬ 
ments  of  fact  is  illogical.  Mention  has  been  made  al¬ 
ready  of  the  fundamental  scientific  principle  known  as 
“ scientific  analogy.”  It  consists  in  the  accepted  rule  of 
science  that,  whenever  possible,  phenomena  are  to  be 
explained  by  ideas  known  to  apply  in  the  field  of  investi¬ 
gation;  and  that  no  ideas  imported  from  another  field 
are  to  be  trusted  for  interpretive  purposes  until  their 
value  in  the  new  field  has  been  established  experimen¬ 
tally.  According  to  this  rule,  Aristotle,  in  maintain¬ 
ing  that  the  planets  move  in  circular  orbits,  because  the 
circle  is  the  most  perfect  curve,  invited  the  error  into 
which  he  ran;  for  there  is  nothing  to  show  that  perfec¬ 
tion  is  a  principle  of  control  in  astronomy. 

The  like  remark  appears  to  apply  to  the  paternalistic 
theory  of  history.  Until  the  actuality  of  a  superintend¬ 
ing  Providence  has  been  established,  the  use  of  that  idea 
for  historical  and  literary  explanation  is  unscientific. 
On  the  practical  side,  the  doctrine  of  Providence  may 
be  a  proper  article  of  faith  and,  through  its  stimulus 
to  moral  endeavor,  may  be  a  useful  determinant  of  life ; 
but,  so  long  as  it  is  faith  and  not  knowledge,  it  cannot  be 
used  as  a  proof  or  support  of  anything  claiming  to  be 
knowledge.  Intellectually  it  is  merely  an  hypothesis, 
and  cannot  possibly  prove  that  other  hypothesis,  the 
Mosaic  authorship  of  the  Pentateuch;  for  to  justify  one 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY  209 

hypothesis  by  another  is  very  like  the  blind  leading  the 
blind. 

It  thus  appears  that  the  third  main  support  of  the 
traditional  view,  namely,  a  priori  reasoning  from  theo¬ 
ries  rather  than  established  truths,  falls  to  the  ground, 
and  falls,  too,  even  when  it  is  well  articulated  in  itself. 
Modern  thought  is  evidently  quite  justified  in  adopting 
the  critical  view;  for  its  results  have  been  reached  by 
scientific  processes,  while  the  supports  of  the  traditional 
view  dissolve  like  pillars  of  fog  under  the  clear  light  of 
impartial  inquiry. 

In  the  case  of  most  historical  books  it  would  not  be 
needful  to  carry  this  discussion  further;  but  we  cannot 
and  should  not  ignore  the  fact  that  in  the  western  na¬ 
tions  of  the  world  the  Bible  is  generally  regarded  as 
much  more  than  a  book  of  history.  It  is  held  to  be  a 
prime  authority  in  morals  and  a  saving  guide  in  religion. 
But  can  it,  and  should  it,  continue  to  be  so  regarded  if, 
as  an  historical  record,  it  is  subject  to  like  errors  with 
other  ancient  histories?  Not  a  few  have  been  quick  to 
answer  in  the  negative,  and  to  deny  it  all  moral  or  reli¬ 
gious  authority.  This  view,  in  the  face  of  the  countless 
testimonials  to  the  Bible’s  value  on  the  part  of  human¬ 
ity’s  best  and  ablest,  ancient  and  modern,  is  a  hasty  and 
far  too  sweeping  judgment.  If  the  Bible  contains  er¬ 
rors,  and  errors  really  integral  to  it,  it  evidently  cannot 
be  received  by  intelligent  men  as  literally  inspired  by 
God.  Two  other  ways,  however,  of  recognizing  and  re¬ 
taining  its  power  and  value  remain : 

(1)  It  may  be  held  that  the  Scriptures  contain  “the 
word  of  God,”  that  is,  a  divine  revelation.  Some  be¬ 
lievers  who  adopt  this  formula  admit  historical  inac¬ 
curacies,  but  charge  them  to  the  human  side  of  the 


210 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Bible,  and  claim  inerrancy  and  authority  for  the  divine 
side,  namely,  its  moral  and  religious  teachings.  Unfor¬ 
tunately,  these  latter  teachings,  also,  can  be  shown  to  be 
defective  in  places,  sometimes  seriously  so.  Thus  no 
clear  intellectual  line  of  demarcation  between  man’s  and 
God’s  contributions  to  the  Bible  appears  to  be  possible. 
Naturally  enough  traditionalists  and  radicals  alike  pro¬ 
nounce  this  theory  of  human  and  divine  collaboration 
worthless,  since  it  fails  to  show  what  parts  of  the  Bible 
have  any  sort  of  divine  backing.  In  reply,  its  more  lib¬ 
eral  defenders  maintain  that  if  no  hard-and-fast  scien¬ 
tific  rule  is  furnished  by  it,  yet  for  practical  purposes  the 
test  of  Coleridge  is  sufficient,  that  philosopher  having 
held  that  those  parts  of  the  Bible  are  inspired  “  which 
find  me”;  that  is,  those  which  aroused  within  him  an 
adequate  spiritual  response. 

(2)  The  other  theoretical  way  out  is  to  renounce 
frankly  all  claim  to  special  divine  participation  in  the 
production  of  the  Hebrew  (and  Christian)  Scriptures, 
and  to  claim  for  them  simply  a  first  place  in  the  spiritual 
literature  of  the  world,  a  literature  which  it  is  possible 
to  believe  discovers  intuitively  and  reflects  convincingly 
divine  truths  and  purposes  of  utmost  moment  to  men. 
Such  a  claim  is  possible  only  for  certain  selected  parts 
of  those  Scriptures  (parts  to  be  determined  by  Cole¬ 
ridge’s  test) ;  for  much  of  their  contents  have  to  do  with 
matters  of  only  passing  concern,  and  some  of  them  are 
below  the  level  of  other  ethical  and  religious  writings. 
From  this  point  of  view  the  Bible  owes  its  unique  posi¬ 
tion  in  the  religious  world,  partly  to  its  high  insights  ex¬ 
pressed  in  everyday  speech,  and  partly  to  the  fact  that 
so  many  generations  of  men  of  aspiration  have  ap¬ 
proved  those  insights  and  witnessed  to  them  in,  and 


HISTORICAL  INQUIRY 


811 


sometimes  with,  their  lives.  Coleridge’s  test  of  spiritual 
truth,  mentioned  above,  is  evidently  not  a  scientific  one; 
for  it  does  not  appeal  to  a  standard  which  is,  or  can 
be,  common  to  all  trained  minds.  On  the  contrary,  it 
appeals  to  the  individual  mind.  The  teachings  which 
actually  awoke  within  him  a  spiritual  response  were 
doubtless  dependent  for  their  effect  upon  his  emotional 
sensitiveness;  and  this  is  by  no  means  alike  in  men  of 
equal  intellectual  competency. 

QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  Give  a  concrete  example  of  the  difference  between  external  and  in¬ 
ternal  evidence. 

2.  State  and  justify  the  critical  inferences  in  the  following  sets  of  Bib¬ 
lical  references: 

a .  Exod.  xxi,  1-6,  and  Deut.  xv,  12-18,  compared  with  Lev.  xxv, 
39-46. 

b.  Deut.  xn,  1-14,  Exod.  xxvn,  1,  2  Chron.  iv,  1,  compared  with 
Exod.  xx,  24-26,  1  Sam.  ix,  io— 14,  19,  25,  and  1  Kings  in,  2-5. 

3.  It  is  stated  in  the  Talmud  that  “  Moses  wrote  his  own  book . . . 
Joshua  wrote  his  own  book  and  . . .  Samuel  wrote  his  own  book”. 
What  inference  regarding  the  authorship  and  date  of  Joshua  is  to 
be  drawn  from  Josh,  xxiv,  29  ff.,  and  from  a  comparison  of  Josh, 
xi,  23,  xv,  63,  and  Judges  i,  21,  with  2  Sam.  v,  4r-10,  and  xxiv, 
18  ff. ;  and  by  comparing  Josh,  x,  13  with  2  Sam.  i,  17? 

4.  What  is  to  be  inferred  as  to  the  date  and  authorship  of  the  books  of 
Samuel  from  1  Sam.  xxvm,  3;  xxvn,  6;  xxx,  23-25;  and  2  Sam. 
vi,  8?  Compare  the  accounts  of  how  Saul  became  king  in  1  Sam. 
chaps,  viii  to  xii  (especially  chaps,  vm,  x,  17-27;  and  xii  with 
chaps,  ix,  x,  16,  xi,  1-11),  pointing  out  significant  differences  and 
drawing  conclusions  as  to  the  origin  of  the  book.  Do  the  same 
with  the  story  of  David  in  1  Sam.  xiv,  52,  xvi,  14-23,  xviii,  5-11, 
20-30,  comparing  these  passages  with  chaps,  xvii  to  xvm,  4, 13-19. 

5.  In  June,  1916,  the  British  Government  reported  the  death  of  Lord 
Kitchener  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean;  yet  no  witnesses  testified  to  it,  still 
less  did  any  attendant  physician  certify  to  it.  Why,  then,  should 
we  believe  the  report?  Are  we  violating  the  principle  of  positivism 
in  doing  so?  If  not,  why  not? 

6.  If  a  friend,  who  had  just  attended  a  widely  and  pictorially  adver¬ 
tised  prestidigitation  performance,  assured  you  that  he  had  seen 
the  performer  actually  swallow  a  thirty-inch  sword,  in  what  ways, 
without  impeaching  his  veracity,  could  you  account  for  his  state¬ 
ment  and  belief? 


212 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


7.  A  classmate  of  the  present  writer  assured  him  that  the  absence  of 
teeth  at  the  sides  of  a  horse’s  mouth  was  clear  evidence  that  the 
mouth  was  designed  to  hold  the  master’s  bit:  what  scientific  prin¬ 
ciple  was  violated  in  that  claim?  Explain  the  principle,  and  show 
its  reasonableness. 

8.  Make  a  brief  outline  of  the  argument  in  this  chapter,  and  show  how 
it  leads  up  to  the  conclusions  on  pages  101,  102,  103,  104.  (Any 
logical  criticisms  will  be  welcomed.) 

« 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

G.  B.  Gray,  A  Critical  Introduction  to  the  Old  Testament.  Scribner’s,  1913. 

W.  H.  Bennett,  A  Primer  of  the  Bible.  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1898. 

George  Adam  Smith,  Modern  Criticism  and  the  Preaching  of  the  Old 
Testament.  A.  C.  Armstrong  and  Son,  1901. 

S.  R.  Driver,  Introduction  to  the  Old  Testament.  T.  &  T.  Clark,  1913. 

C.  A.  Briggs,  The  Higher  Criticism  of  the  Hexateuch.  Scribner’s,  1897. 

W.  Robertson  Smith,  The  Old  Testament  in  the  Jewish  Church.  D. 
Appleton  Co.,  1892. 

A.  L.  Jones,  Logic ,  Inductive,  etc.,  part  m,  chap.  m.  Henry  Holt  k 
Go.,  1909. 

J.  T.  Shotwell,  An  Introduction  to  the  History  of  History,  Secs,  i  and  II* 
Columbia  University  Press,  1922. 

David  Hume,  Enquiry  concerning  Human  Understanding,  Sec.  x. 


CHAPTER  IX 

REFLECTIVE  THOUGHT  IN  THE  FIELD  OF  VALUES 

Section  1 .  The  Value  Situation:  Mediate  and 

Immediate  Values 

Hitherto  our  illustrations  of  the  principles  of  sound 
thinking  have  all  been  drawn  from  those  sciences  which 
deal  with  the  various  aspects  of  our  universe  from  the 
purely  descriptive  point  of  view,  apart  from  all  consid¬ 
erations  of  good  or  bad,  better  or  worse.  We  have  pur¬ 
sued  this  course  because  our  primary  interest  has  been 
to  examine  the  way  in  which  scientists  who  have  ac¬ 
tually  achieved  knowledge  have  gone  about  that  quest, 
and  because  it  is  in  astronomy  and  mathematics  and 
physics  and  biology  that  they  have  been  most  success¬ 
ful.  Here,  if  anywhere,  we  can  find  those  principles  of 
discovery  and  testing  actually  displayed.  With  a  clear 
realization  of  the  part  they  play  in  the  realm  in  which 
we  can  truly  claim  that  knowledge  is  an  accomplished 
fact,  we  can  approach  the  difficult  field  of  human  rela¬ 
tionships  with  some  assurance  that  we  may  find  a  path 
through  the  maze. 

So  far,  in  our  analysis  of  the  typical  act  of  thought, 
we  have  taken  for  granted,  as  given,  the  goal  we  had  in 
mind.  The  solution  of  a  presented  difficulty  was  the 
aim  at  which  all  of  our  suggestions  were  directed,  and  by 
their  success  in  reaching  that  solution  they  were  judged. 
Throughout  we  have  assumed  that  that  solution  was 
something  unquestionably  desirable  to  arrive  at,  and  all 
of  our  suggestions  have  been  measured  by  their  value  as 


£14 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


means  to  the  attainment  of  that  end.  One  suggestion 
was  good,  another  bad,  one  was  better  than  several 
others,  as  it  effected  the  end  which  had  all  along  stimu¬ 
lated  our  action,  whether  that  end  was  the  arrival  in  a 
certain  place  at  a  certain  time,  or  the  explanation  of  the 
movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  The  kind  of  value 
possessed  by  these  suggestions  is  known  as  “ mediate” 
value;  that  is,  they  are  valuable  as  they  serve  as  means 
to  some  end  beyond  themselves.  It  is  obvious  that  the 
whole  process  of  reflection  which  we  have  hitherto  so 
closely  examined  is  concerned  with  the  measuring  of 
various  “mediate”  values;  nor  is  it  too  much  to  say  that 
the  whole  of  science  is  fruitful  in  so  far  as  it  enables  us  to 
decide  with  certainty  just  what  are  the  best  means  of 
achieving  certain  desired  results. 

Natural  or  descriptive  science  stops  here,  and  does 
not  go  on  to  ask  the  further  question  of  what  results  are 
to  be  desired,  to  be  preferred  to  others.  Science  in  it¬ 
self  furnishes  none  of  the  ends  of  action;  in  so  far  as  the 
knowledge  of  the  scientist  is  concerned,  it  is  immaterial 
whether  what  we  know  of  high  explosives  is  used  to  build 
a  great  reservoir  to  make  the  desert  blossom  as  the  rose, 
or  to  construct  giant  shells  to  snuff  out  the  lives  of  an 
entire  city.  As  a  man  the  scientist  may,  nay,  must, 
make  some  preference;  but  the  grounds  for  that  prefer¬ 
ence  are  not  to  be  found  in  physics. 

How  are  these  preferences  themselves  to  be  dealt 
with  reflectively?  Let  us  take  a  simple  example.  If  we 
are  bent  upon  getting  downtown  in  the  quickest  possible 
time,  it  is  easy  to  decide  that  the  subway  is  a  better 
mode  of  conveyance  than  the  top  of  a  bus,  and  it  is  no 
difficult  matter  to  prove  it  to  any  one.  If  we  desire  to 
get  downtown  in  the  most  comfortable  way  on  this  fine 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


215 


day,  it  is  again  easy  to  decide  and  to  prove  that  the  bus 
is  the  better  method.  So  long  as  we  accept  the  aim 
of  either  speed  or  comfort  and  raise  no  further  question, 
we  can  arrive  at  a  valid  conclusion,  easily  tested,  in  ac¬ 
cordance  with  all  the  principles  developed  so  far  in  this 
book.  We  have  only  to  judge  of  bus  and  subway  as 
means  to  the  end  we  have  already  accepted.  But  sup¬ 
pose  that  we  are  in  no  special  hurry,  and  yet  do  not 
desire  to  waste  any  time  unnecessarily;  how  are  we  to 
decide  whether  we  shall  make  the  speed  or  the  comfort 
our  goal?  It  is  good  to  ride  on  the  top  of  a  bus;  it  is 
also  good  not  to  waste  an  afternoon.  Which  is  it  bet¬ 
ter  to  do? 

Our  decision  could  be  made  in  several  ways.  We 
might  toss  a  coin.  We  might  accept  the  preference  of 
our  companion.  We  might  say,  “I  haven’t  ridden  on  a 
bus  for  some  time;  I  think  I’ll  try  it  to-day.”  But,  in 
any  of  these  cases,  we  should  not  be  choosing  reflec¬ 
tively,  and  we  should  not  be  able  to  prove  that  our  choice 
was  the  better  one,  as  we  could  prove  which  was  quicker 
and  which  was  more  comfortable.  Is  there  any  way  of 
proving  that  in  this  case  speed  is  the  better  choice?  Is 
there  any  way  of  proving  that  to  build  a  reservoir  is  bet¬ 
ter  than  to  construct  giant  shells? 

In  the  face  of  this  problem  of  evaluating  competing 
goods,  and  of  working  out  some  method  which  will  give  us 
valid  grounds  for  preferring  one  to  the  other,  those  who 
have  given  most  consideration  to  the  question  are  by  no 
means  agreed.  It  may  well  be  that  very  often  it  is  inr 
possible  to  make  such  a  preference  anything  more  than  a 
merely  personal  liking;  it  may  well  be  that  in  many 
cases  we  cannot  deal  reflectively  with  such  evaluation  of 
ends.  But  one  thing  at  least  does  seem  fairly  clear, 


*16 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


that,  if  reflection  can  enter  into  the  matter  at  all,  it 
must  do  so  in  certain  definite  ways.  If  we  are  to  decide 
reflectively,  when  goods  are  compared  with  other  goods, 
we  cannot  attempt  to  choose  between  them  until  all  of 
the  consequences  that  will  flow  from  their  acceptance, 
and  all  of  the  other  values  which  are  implied  in  them, 
have  been  carefully  developed  so  far  as  lies  in  our 
power.  Reflection  can  do  very  little  if  it  tries  to  com¬ 
pare  competing  goods  directly.  We  could  set  speed 
over  against  comfort,  and  be  torn  between  them  for  so 
long  as  we  wished;  but,  if  we  stopped  there,  we  could 
get  little  basis  for  decision.  We  might,  of  course,  feel 
that  comfort  made  a  greater  appeal  to  us  than  speed, 
and  hence  choose  the  bus.  But  we  could  not  prove  to 
our  companion  that  we  were  right;  he  would  have  to  ac¬ 
cept  our  preference  as  a  brute  fact.  But  if  we  regard 
the  two  courses  in  the  light  of  the  further  consequences 
with  which  they  are  bound  up,  and  which  must  follow  if 
either  is  chosen,  then  we  are  in  a  better  position  to  make 
an  objective  judgment.  We  can  then  realize  that  the 
extra  half-hour  spent  on  the  bus  may  make  it  impossible 
to  go  to  the  play  to-night;  that,  after  all,  the  bus  seats 
are  very  tiring;  that  if  we  took  the  subway  we  could 
stop  in  at  the  station  and  inquire  about  trains;  and  hav¬ 
ing  before  us,  as  it  were,  the  complete  pictures  of  what 
is  likely  to  follow  in  either  case,  we  can  not  only  decide 
that  it  is  the  second  rather  than  the  first  state  of  affairs 
which  we  desire  to  bring  about,  but  we  can  also  prove  to 
our  friend  that  he,  too,  wants  to  go  to  the  theater,  and 
hence  accepts  speed  as  the  better  end  in  this  instance. 

It  thus  seems  possible  to  evaluate  various  courses  of 
action  only  when  we  are  in  a  position  to  know  how  they 
will  lead  to  or  affect  other  things  or  actions  which,  for 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


217 


the  time  being  at  least,  we  accept  without  further  ques¬ 
tion.  Ends  can  be  evaluated  reflectively  only  when 
they  are  regarded  in  the  light  of  still  further  ends  to 
which  they  may  contribute.  Other  things  being  equal, 
that  end  is  the  better  end  which  the  better  effects  still 
further  good.  In  this  further  good  there  must,  of 
course,  be  included  the  immediate  satisfaction  of  de¬ 
sires  which  is  attendant  upon  the  acceptance  and  enjoy¬ 
ment  of  any  good;  and,  if  I  do  like  to  ride  on  the  bus 
much  better  than  on  the  subway,  the  satisfaction  I 
should  derive  from  taking  the  bus  must  play  an  impor¬ 
tant  part  in  the  completed  picture  of  the  effects  of  taking 
it.  This  immediately  satisfying  quality  which  objects 
possess  is  known  as  their  “  immediate  ”  or  “intrinsic,” 
as  distinguished  from  their  “ mediate,”  value;  a  good 
can  satisfy  us  both  in  itself,  and  also  through  its  effect 
in  producing  a  further  good  which  can  satisfy  us  in 
itself.  Thus  it  is  pleasant  to  ride  on  a  bus,  even  if  one 
does  not  care  to  go  anywhere  in  particular;  and  a  bus 
can  also  get  one  to  a  theater  which  will  offer  a  pleasant 
afternoon.  But  it  is  usually  impossible  to  choose  be¬ 
tween  goods  merely  on  the  basis  of  this  inherent  satis¬ 
faction  which  they  offer.  The  contention  has  been 
that,  when  it  comes  to  measuring  the  relative  value  of 
two  courses  of  action,  we  can  come  nearest  to  objective 
certainty  when  we  take  account  of  their  mediate,  as 
well  as  their  immediate,  aspect ;  when  we  see  the  whole 
picture  and  not  the  bare  sketch. 

The  outcome,  then,  of  our  examination  of  the  princi¬ 
ples  of  the  process  of  evaluation  has  been  to  make  it  but 
a  special  case  of  the  typical  act  of  reflective  thinking.  It 
is  true  that  most  things  possess  an  immediate  value, 
either  positive  or  negative;  that  they  are  in  themselves 


218 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


good  and  intrinsically  satisfying,  or  the  opposite.  It  is 
true  that  in  many  cases  this  immediate  good  may  be 
that  aspect  of  them  which  on  first  consideration  makes 
the  strongest  appeal.  But  it  is  at  the  same  time  true 
that,  if  we  considered  this  intrinsic  appeal  alone,  we 
should  never  be  sure  that  we  had  really  decided  most 
wisely;  and  since,  in  the  nature  of  things,  such  an  appeal 
must  remain  private  and  of  little  objective  cogency,  if 
we  are  to  decide  rationally  and  intelligently  we  must  not 
stop  with  first  appearances,  but  must  go  on  to  elabo¬ 
rate  upon  all  the  consequences  of  the  various  possible 
courses,  to  choose  clearly  some  end  which  we  will  adopt 
as  a  standard,  and  to  ascertain  which  of  the  courses  will 
best  effect  that  end. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  unquestioned  ends  which  are  ac¬ 
cepted  as  the  outcome  of  the  process  of  elaboration  are 
but  preferences,  in  the  sense  that  they  are  assumed  to  be 
good  without  further  proof.  When  two  men  conflict 
upon  these  preferences,  there  can  be  but  one  way  of 
reaching  agreement.  These  preferences  must  them¬ 
selves  be  subjected  to  elaboration  and  clarification,  un¬ 
til  it  is  made  plain  that  the  acceptance  of  one  or  the 
other  will  bring  with  it  some  still  further  good  upon 
which  the  two  disputants  can  agree.  Suppose,  as  in  the 
case  which  forms  the  basis  of  one  of  the  following  chap¬ 
ters,  two  men  disagree  about  the  legislative  enactment 
of  a  maximum  working  day  for  women.  If  each  con¬ 
tented  himself  with  insisting  upon  the  correctness  of  his 
own  position,  they  might  argue  all  day  without  produc¬ 
ing  any  effect  upon  each  other’s  convictions.  But  in 
actual  practice  each  would  try  to  show  just  what  his  so¬ 
lution  would  bring  with  it,  and  in  the  course  of  that  elab¬ 
oration  the  two  would  probably  agree  upon  some  other 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUE 


219  x 


good  which  both  wanted  to  bring  about.  In  this  case, 
both  would  admit  that  the  general  health  and  welfare  of 
the  community  was  an  end  upon  which  they  could  agree. 
It  would  then  be  a  comparatively  simple  matter  to  es¬ 
tablish  by  the  citing  of  statistical  and  experimental  evi¬ 
dence  whether  an  eight-hour  day  did  or  did  not  effec¬ 
tively  promote  the  general  welfare.  Thus,  what  had  at 
first  seemed  to  be  a  problem  in  evaluating  ends  could  be 
turned  into  a  mere  question  of  testing  two  alternative 
means  to  an  end,  and  that  could  be  decided  upon  the 
basis  of  the  knowledge  we  possess  of  industrial  life. 

If  two  men  could  reach  no  agreement  whatsoever 
upon  any  thing  that  both  considered  good,  then,  of 
course,  it  would  be  impossible  to  choose  reflectively  be¬ 
tween  their  proposals;  the  final  choice  would  needs  be 
based  upon  their  irrational  preference  for  one  of  the 
alternatives.  Frequently  reflection  does  find  itself  thus 
impotent  to  effect  any  agreement;  and  in  such  cases  of 
conflict,  when  the  circumstances  preclude  an  agree¬ 
ment  to  disagree,  it  may  become  necessary  to  appeal  to 
unreasoning  force,  either  through  a  majority  vote,  or 
through  recourse  to  arms.  Two  nations  can  thus  fly 
at  each  other’s  throats  when  they  both  decide  that  the 
safety  and  glory  of  their  own  race  is  an  ultimate  good, 
and  refuse  to  think  of  the  effect  of  a  victory  upon  the  hu¬ 
man  race  as  a  whole.  But  even  here,  where  through  lack 
of  any  accepted  standard  reflection  finds  itself  unable 
to  effect  a  process  of  ultimate  evaluation,  through  the 
elaboration  and  clarification  of  the  various  choices  it 
can  eliminate  the  necessity  of  such  an  appeal  to  force 
before  all  the  returns  are  in.  It  might  well  prove  that 
the  patriot  would  prefer  his  country  to  perish  upon  the 
altar  of  national  glory;  but  at  least  in  making  such  a 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


220 

choice  he  could  be  brought  to  realize  the  full  price  such 
victory  would  entail. 

If  this  process  of  elaboration  is  to  be  succeeded  by  a 
genuine  process  of  evaluation,  however,  in  which  alter¬ 
natives  are  tested  in  the  light  of  some  more  ultimate 
standard,  that  standard  must  be  accepted  by  both  par¬ 
ties.  In  any  given  process  of  evaluation,  some  preferred 
end  must  remain  unquestioned.  Just  how  fundamental 
that  preference  must  be  depends  upon  how  fundamental 
is  the  conflict  between  competing  goods;  the  choice  be¬ 
tween  tennis  and  rowing  as  sports  is  much  easier  to 
make  than  the  choice  between  a  democratic  and  an  aris¬ 
tocratic  way  of  life.  But,  in  any  case,  the  preference 
must  be  pushed  back  until  some  good  is  reached  which 
in  the  ensuing  process  of  evaluation  remains  unques¬ 
tioned. 

Thus,  when  it  becomes  necessary  to  choose  between 
two  ends  which  offer  themselves,  three  things  are  in¬ 
volved.  First,  those  ends  must  be  carefully  elaborated 
until  the  complete  picture  is  before  us.  Secondly,  some 
further  end  must  be  agreed  upon.  Finally,  those  com¬ 
peting  ends  must  themselves  be  treated  as  means,  and 
evaluated  as  they  serve  to  effect  the  further  end.  Re¬ 
flection  can  thus  clarify  ends  and  evaluate  means;  but 
the  acceptance  of  a  standard  for  that  evaluation  re¬ 
mains  something  into  which  reflection  cannot  enter. 
That  is  a  fundamental  preference  to  be  made  upon  a 
basis  of  experience  and  acquaintance. 

Section  2 .  The  Dogmatic  and  the  Reflective  Methods  of 

Evaluation 

We  have  described  the  process  of  evaluation  in  simple 
terms,  as  though  it  were  the  most  obvious  thing  in  the 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


221 


world  to  apply  the  principles  of  reflective  thinking  to 
any  conflict  between  values.  But  unfortunately  it  has 
not  always  been  so,  and  even  at  the  present  time  it  is  but 
rarely  that  men  will  consent  to  employ  reason  in  this  all- 
important  field.  Far  too  frequently  they  accept  certain 
types  of  act  as  good  or  bad  in  themselves,  and  then  re¬ 
fuse  to  admit  even  the  possibility  of  a  test  in  the  case 
of  conflict,  through  reference  to  further  consequences. 
This  is  the  utter  negation  of  reason,  and  means  the 
removal  of  the  field  of  values  entirely  from  the  realm 
of  reflection.  These  absolutely  good  or  bad  acts  are 
accepted,  in  theory  at  least,  either  on  authority,  as 
divinely  bestowed  in  some  sacred  code  of  laws,  or  else 
as  intuitively  perceived  to  be  binding.  In  any  case  of 
actual  conflict,  the  question  is  not  whether  one  choice 
would  effect  what,  on  rational  consideration,  seems  to 
be  the  best  result;  it  is  which  commandment  is  to  be 
applied.  Those  acts  that  are  commanded  have  been 
commanded,  and  obedience  must  be  unquestioning; 
those  truths  which  are  self-evident  it  would  be  sac¬ 
rilegious  to  subject  to  scrutiny  and  reflective  criticism. 

It  may  very  well  prove  that,  when  these  objectives 
that  are  accepted  as  absolutely  good  are  evaluated  re¬ 
flectively,  they  will  prove  Worthy  of  the  confidence  that 
men  have  placed  in  them.  In  fact,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  no  evaluative  process  can  take  place  without  some 
standard  accepted,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  as  un¬ 
questionably  good.  Yet  so  often  have  the  aims  which 
men  thus  dogmatically  imposed  upon  themselves  and 
others  resulted  in  evil  and  suffering,  that  it  appears  that 
to  regard  any  values  as  quite  removed  from  the  possibil¬ 
ity  of  further  criticism  is  exceedingly  apt  to  mean  that 
they  are  incapable  of  any  rational  justification  whatso- 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


ever.  We  shall  have  occasion  to  examine  the  function 
which  such  standards  do  perform  in  the  evaluative  proc¬ 
ess;  but  here  we  must  assume  that  the  more  that  proc¬ 
ess  can  be  made  genuinely  reflective  and  the  less  we 
must  take  refuge  in  a  dogmatic  statement  of  preferences, 
the  more  likely  we  are  to  arrive  at  objective  truth  about 
values. 

A  different  way  of  attacking  the  same  problem  is  to 
say:  “Let  us  forget  for  the  moment  that  you  say  this 
must  be  done,  and  I  say  that  must  be  done.  Let  us  try 
to  find  out  if  we  cannot  agree  on  something  of  which  we 
should  both  approve,  and  which  we  could  both  try  to 
get.  If  we  can  agree  on  this  good  thing,  then  perhaps 
we  shall  not  find  it  so  hard  to  argue  intelligently  about 
the  best  way  of  getting  it.”  If  such  an  undertaking 
were  carried  on,  each  advocate  might  tell  why  he 
thought  the  end  he  desired  was  good.  Its  implications 
would  be  pointed  out.  All  of  the  further  consequences 
it  carried  with  it  would  be  displayed  as  things  which 
would  have  to  be  accepted  if  it  were  taken.  Thus  an  at¬ 
tempt  might  be  made  to  show  just  what  values  were 
bound  up  with  that  end.  When  its  consequences  had 
thus  been  clearly  put  before  both  disputants,  they 
might  well  say,  “We  agree  on  this  as  our  goal;  now  let 
us  see  how  we  can  best  secure  it.” 

These  two  methods  of  evaluating  goods  we  have 
called  the  ‘  ‘  dogmatic  ’  ’  and  the  ‘  ‘  reflective  ’  ’  ways.  The 
dogmatic  method  holds  that  there  are  certain  things 
that  are  beyond  all  peradventure  of  doubt  right  and 
good,  and  that  they  should  be  aimed  at,  be  the  conse¬ 
quences  what  they  may  — fiatjustitia,  ruat  coelum.  The 
reflective  method  hold,s  that,  however  good  things  may 
be  in  themselves,  if  it  become  necessary  to  choose,  that 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


223 


choice  must  be  made  in  the  light  of  further  goods.  In 
this  distinction  “dogmatic”  is  not  used  in  any  deprecia- 
tive  sense;  assuredly  the  more  reasonable  mode  may  be, 
at  times,  to  adopt  the  dogmatic  position.  But  that 
cannot  alter  the  fact  that  such  a  position  does  exclude 
reflection. 

No  more  illuminating  example  could  be  found  to  illus¬ 
trate  these  two  methods  of  dealing  with  values  than  the 
contrast  between  the  two  great  historic  series  of  argu¬ 
ments  in  favor  of  the  general  principles  of  democracy, 
the  absolutistic  and  dogmatic  assertions  of  the  natural 
rights  school,  as  found  in  the  classic  American  Declara¬ 
tion  of  Independence  and  the  French  Declaration  of  the 
Rights  of  Man,  and  the  equally  classic  arguments  of  the 
Utilitarians.  We  quote  the  admirable  summary  of  Bryce. 

“We  hold  these  truths  to  be  self-evident,  that  all  men  are 
created  equal,  that  they  are  endowed  by  their  Creator  with 
certain  inalienable  Rights,  that  among  these  are  Life,  Liberty, 
and  the  pursuit  of  Happiness,  that  to  secure  these  rights, 
Governments  are  instituted,  deriving  their  just  powers  from 
the  consent  of  the  governed.”  (American  Declaration  of  In¬ 
dependence,  1776.) 

“  Men  are  born  and  continue  equal  in  respect  of  their  rights. 

“  The  end  of  political  society  is  the  preservation  of  the  natu¬ 
ral  and  imprescriptible  rights  of  man.  These  Rights  are  lib¬ 
erty,  property,  security,  and  resistance  to  oppression. 

“The  principle  of  all  Sovereignty  resides  essentially  in  the 
nation.  No  body,  no  individual,  can  exert  any  authority 
which  is  not  expressly  derived  from  it. 

“All  citizens  have  a  right  to  concur  personally,  or  through 
their  representatives  in  making  the  law.  Being  equal  in  ite 
eyes,  then,  they  are  all  equally  admissible  to  all  dignities, 
posts,  and  public  employments. 

“No  one  ought  to  be  molested  on  account  of  his  opinions, 
even  his  religious  opinions.”  (Declaration  of  the  Rights  of 


$24 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Man  made  by  the  National  Assembly  of  France,  August, 
1789.) 

These  two  declarations,  delivered  authoritatively  by  two 
bodies  of  men  at  two  moments  of  far-reaching  historical  im¬ 
portance,  contain  the  fundamental  dogmas,  a  sort  of  Apos¬ 
tles’  Creed,  of  democracy.  They  are  the  truths  on  which  it 
claims  to  rest,  they  embody  the  appeal  it  makes  to  human 
reason.  Slightly  varied  in  expression,  their  substance  may 
be  stated  as  follows: 

Each  man  who  comes  into  the  world  comes  into  it  Free, 
with  a  mind  to  think  for  himself,  a  will  to  act  for  himself. 
The  subjection  of  one  man  to  another  except  by  his  own  free 
will  is  against  Nature.  All  men  are  born  Equal,  with  an 
equal  right  to  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  That  each  man  may 
secure  this  right  and  preserve  his  liberty  as  a  member  of  a 
community,  he  must  have  an  equal  share  in  its  government, 
that  government  being  created  and  maintained  by  the  con¬ 
sent  of  the  community.  Equality  is  the  guarantee  of  inde¬ 
pendence. 

These  axioms,  being  delivered  as  self-evident  truths,  ante¬ 
cedent  to  and  independent  of  experience,  require  no  proof. 
They  are  propounded  as  parts  of  the  universal  Law  of  Nature, 
written  on  men’s  hearts,  and  therefore  true  always  and  every¬ 
where. 

While  the  Declarations  of  the  Natural  Rights  of  Man  made 
at  Philadelphia  and  at  Paris  were  resounding  through  the 
world,  there  were  other  thinkers  who,  like  some  Greek  philos¬ 
ophers  more  than  two  thousand  years  before,  were  drawing 
from  the  actual  experience  of  mankind  arguments  which  fur¬ 
nished  another  set  of  foundations  on  which  democracy  might 
rest.  Testing  the  value  of  a  principle  by  its  practical  results, 
they  propounded  a  number  of  propositions,  some  of  which 
may  be  given  as  familiar  examples. 

Liberty  is  a  good  thing,  because  it  develops  the  character  of 
the  individual,  and  conduces  to  the  welfare  of  the  commu¬ 
nity.  When  one  man,  or  a  few  men,  rule  over  others,  some 
of  the  subjects  are  sure  to  resent  control  and  rebel  against  it, 
troubling  the  general  peace.  No  one  is  good  enough  to  be 
entrusted  with  unlimited  power.  Unless  he  be  a  saint  — • 
perhaps  even  if  he  be  a  saint  —  he  is  sure  to  abuse  it. 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


Every  man  is  the  best  judge  of  his  own  interest,  and  there¬ 
fore  best  knows  what  sort  of  government  and  what  laws  will 
promote  that  interest.  Hence  those  laws  and  that  govern¬ 
ment  will  presumably  be  the  best  for  a  community  as  a  whole 
which  are  desired  by  the  largest  number  of  its  members. 

Two  men  are  presumably  better  able  than  one  to  judge 
what  is  for  the  common  good.  Three  men  are  wiser  still,  and 
so  on.  Hence  the  larger  the  number  of  members  of  the  com¬ 
munity  who  have  the  right  to  give  their  opinion,  the  more 
likely  to  be  correct  (other  things  being  equal)  is  the  decision 
reached  by  the  community. 

Individual  men  may  have  selfish  aims,  possibly  injurious  to 
the  community,  but  these  will  be  restrained  by  the  other 
members  of  the  community  whose  personal  aims  will  be  dif¬ 
ferent.  Thus  the  self-regarding  purposes  of  individuals  will 
be  eliminated,  and  the  common  aims  which  the  bulk  of  the 
community  desires  to  pursue  will  prevail. 

As  every  man  has  some  interest  in  the  well-being  of  the 
community,  a  part  at  least  of  his  own  personal  interest  being 
bound  up  with  it,  every  man  will  have  a  motive  for  bearing 
his  share  in  its  government,  and  he  will  seek  to  bear  it,  so  far 
as  his  personal  motives  do  not  collide  therewith. 

Inequality,  by  arousing  jealousy  and  envy,  provokes  dis¬ 
content.  Discontent  disturbs  the  harmony  of  a  community 
and  induces  strife.  Hence  equality  in  political  rights,  while 
it  benefits  the  community  by  opening  to  talent  the  opportu¬ 
nity  of  rendering  good  service,  tends  also  to  peace  and  good 
order. 

To  sum  up,  government  by  the  whole  people  best  secures 
the  two  main  objects  of  all  Governments  —  Justice  and  Hap¬ 
piness,  Justice,  because  no  man  or  class  or  group  will  be 
strong  enough  to  wrong  others;  Happiness,  because  each  man, 
judging  best  what  is  for  his  own  good,  will  have  every  chance 
of  pursuing  it.  The  principles  of  liberty  and  equality  are 
justified  by  the  results  they  yield.1 

Why  does  the  absolutist  demand  liberty  and  equality? 
Because  they  are  Natural  Rights  with  which  all  men  are 

1  Bryce,  Modern  Democracies,  vol.  i,  pp.  43-45. 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


226 

born.  They  are  not  subject  to  doubt.  They  are  indel¬ 
ibly  graven  on  the  heart  of  every  right-thinking  man. 
They  are  beyond  proof.  They  just  are.  Why  does  the 
man  who  reflectively  considers  consequences  demand  the 
same  things?  Because  they  conduce  to  the  welfare  of 
the  community,  to  the  general  peace,  to  justice,  to  the 
common  happiness  —  all  of  them  things  which  even  the 
opponents  of  democracy  desire  to  effect.  The  first  group 
state  their  demands  categorically,  and  enforce  them 
with  their  swords;  the  second  explain  why  theirs  will 
produce  results  which  their  opponents  profess  equally 
to  advocate,  and  appeal  to  reason  rather  than  to  arms. 

It  is  significant  that  in  France,  where  the  absolutistic 
Natural  Rights  theory  was  made  the  defense  of  democ¬ 
racy,  and  was  opposed  by  a  similarly  dogmatic  divine 
right  theory  of  autocracy,  the  political  change  was 
achieved  only  by  a  bloody  and  violent  revolution.  Be¬ 
tween  men  committed  irrevocably  to  such  contradictory 
beliefs  about  values,  there  was  no  way  but  force.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  England,  which  on  the  whole  adopted 
the  opposing  type  of  defense,  the  same  change  was 
accomplished  peaceably  and  not  wholly  irrationally. 
Each  side,  accepting  as  its  ultimate  aim  the  common 
good,  was  able  to  claim  that  its  system  of  government 
best  effected  that  aim,  and  the  autocrats  and  the  demo¬ 
crats,  being  about  equal  in  strength,  could  each  demand 
that  the  other  listen  to  their  arguments.  Reason  here 
had  at  least  a  certain  chance  to  develop  its  case. 

It  is,  of  course,  quite  possible  to  defend  autocracy 
upon  purely  reflective  and  empirical  grounds.  It  is 
worthy  of  note  that  many  present-day  writers  attack 
democracy  and  favor  some  form  of  monarchy  in  gov¬ 
ernment,  with  aristocracy  in  social  structure.  Some 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


227 


of  their  arguments  against  democracy  are  reviewed  by 
Delisle  Burns: 

If  there  is  a  choice  of  leaders  by  the  common  man,  either 
he  chooses  some  incompetent  person  whom  he  can  under¬ 
stand,  and  thereby  ruins  society,  or  he  makes  democracy 
impossible  by  choosing  an  exceptional  man  who  cannot 
easily  be  controlled  by  the  average  intellect.  Again  it  is 
said  that  no  democratic  organization  can  possibly  give  due 
power  to  minorities.  .  .  .Thirdly,  democracy  is  said  to  be  ir¬ 
reconcilable  with  social  organization  for  rapid  and  effective 
group  action.  .  .  .  Finally  ...  it  is  argued  that  the  majority 
of  men  are  not  capable  of  original  action  and  full  personal 
responsibility.1 

These  arguments  imply,  on  the  whole,  that  the  good  of 
the  majority  is  the  ultimate  aim,  but  that  democracy  is 
an  ineffective  means  to  its  attainment.  Other  writers 
go  still  further,  and  deny  that  the  good  of  the  majority 
is  the  best  end;  “rather  a  few  highly  developed,”  they 
say,  “even  at  the  expense  of  suffering  in  others,  than  a 
vast  rabble  of  mediocrities.”  These  latter  writers  no 
longer  admit  the  ultimate  aim  which  the  democrats  pro¬ 
fess,  and  hence  make  rational  argument  with  democrats 
impossible  unless  some  further  end,  some  type  of  life, 
can  be  agreed  upon.  But  if  there  is  any  common  ground 
whatsoever,  it  is  possible  to  introduce  reflective  think¬ 
ing  into  the  great  field  of  values  just  as  into  every  other 
branch  of  knowledge. 

Section  3.  The  Reflective  Elaboration  of  Ends 

We  have  already  outlined  the  general  method  which 
reflection  must  follow  if  it  is  to  accomplish  any  fairly 
definite  and  objective  results  in  the  field  of  values.  We 
have  seen  that  the  first  service  which  reflection  can  per- 

1  Political  Ideals ,  pp.  297-98. 


228 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


form  is  to  develop  the  various  courses  of  action  or  goods 
which  are  competing  for  our  acceptance.  It  can  reveal 
to  us  many  of  the  further  consequences  which  they  will 
each  entail.  This  process  is  essentially  that  of  the 
fourth  stage  of  the  complete  act  of  thinking,  the  stage  in 
which  the  implications  of  the  various  suggestions  are 
carefully  elaborated.  And,  like  that  stage,  it  depends 
essentially  upon  the  knowledge  at  our  disposal  of  the 
causal  patterns  that  do  obtain.  What  will  follow  if  we 
do  perform  certain  actions?  What  things  are  valuable 
as  means  to  further  goods?  We  must  possess  this  pre¬ 
liminary  knowledge  before  we  can  either  clarify  our  ends 
or  evaluate  them  through  reference  to  some  further 
standard. 

This  process  is  exceedingly  complicated,  for  the  knowl¬ 
edge  we  need  in  this  field  is  very  hard  to  come  by.  We 
shall,  therefore,  in  this  section  indicate  some  of  the  main 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  obtaining  that  knowledge,  and 
attempt  to  suggest  ways  by  which  those  obstacles  may 
be  surmounted.  We  must  not  assume,  however,  that 
the  way  will  be  easy  or  clear,  or  that  we  can  hope  to  at¬ 
tain  that  same  measure  of  general  agreement,  even  upon 
causal  relations,  that  the  natural  scientist  regards  as 
the  prerequisite  of  any  definitely  established  body  of 
knowledge.  The  reasons  for  the  comparatively  chaotic 
confusion  in  which  the  whole  field  of  human  relation¬ 
ships,  with  which  the  problems  of  evaluation  so  largely 
deal,  finds  itself  to-day,  will  become  clear  as  we  advance. 
For  that  field  at  present  forms  a  marked  contrast  with 
the  achievements  which  the  natural  scientist  so  proudly 
records.  Despite  the  fact  that  human  intelligence  has 
been  reflectively  occupied  with  the  problems  of  the  rela¬ 
tions  between  man  and  man  for  a  much  longer  time, 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


229 


than  with  those  of  our  physical  environment,  and  that 
many  more  men  have  devoted  their  attention  to  them; 
despite  the  fact  that  the  pathfinders,  from  the  great 
Greeks,  Socrates  and  Plato  and  Aristotle,  down,  who 
have  sought  to  blaze  a  way  here,  have  most  certainly 
not  been  inferior  to  any  of  the  pioneers  of  natural  sci¬ 
ence  —  it  is  unquestioned  that  these  so-called  social  sci¬ 
ences  have  had  little  share  in  the  growth  characteristic 
of  our  knowledge  of  nature  since  the  Renaissance,  and 
that  we  are  still  pretty  much  where  the  Greeks  left  us 
two  thousand  years  ago. 

When  the  intellectual  history  of  this  time  comes  to  be  writ¬ 
ten  [says  H.  G.  Wells],  nothing,  I  think,  will  stand  out  more 
strikingly  than  the  empty  gulf  in  quality  between  the  superb 
and  richly  fruitful  scientific  investigations  that  are  going  on, 
and  the  general  thought  of  other  educated  sections  of  the 
community.  I  do  not  mean  that  scientific  men  are,  as  a 
whole,  a  class  of  supermen,  dealing  with  and  thinking  about 
everything  in  a  way  altogether  better  than  the  common  run 
of  humanity,  but  in  their  field  they  think  and  work  with  an 
intensity,  an  integrity,  a  breadth,  boldness,  patience,  thor¬ 
oughness,  and  faithfulness  —  excepting  only  a  few  artists  — • 
which  puts  their  work  out  of  all  comparison  with  any  other 
human  activity.  ...  In  these  particular  directions  the  human 
mind  has  achieved  a  new  and  higher  quality  of  attitude  and 
gesture,  a  veracity,  a  self-detachment,  and  self-abnegating 
vigor  of  criticism  that  tend  to  spread  out  and  must  ultimately 
spread  out  to  every  other  human  affair. 

James  Harvey  Robinson  gives  an  even  more  striking 
example: 

When  we  compare  the  discussions  in  the  United  States  Sen¬ 
ate  in  regard  to  the  League  of  Nations  with  the  consideration 
of  a  broken-down  car  at  a  roadside  garage,  the  contrast  is 
shocking.  The  rural  mechanic  thinks  scientifically;  his  only 
aim  is  to  avail  himself  of  his  knowledge  of  the  nature  and 


230 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


workings  of  the  car,  with  a  view  to  making  it  run  once  more. 
The  Senator,  on  the  other  hand,  appears  too  often  to  have  lit¬ 
tle  idea  of  the  nature  and  workings  of  nations,  and  he  relies 
on  rhetoric  and  appeals  to  vague  fears  and  hopes  or  mere  par¬ 
tisan  animosity.  The  scientists  have  been  busy  for  a  century 
in  revolutionizing  the  practical  relation  of  nations.  The 
ocean  is  no  longer  a  barrier,  as  it  was  in  Washington’s  day, 
but  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a  smooth  avenue  closely  con¬ 
necting,  rather  than  safely  separating,  the  eastern  and  west¬ 
ern  continents.  The  Senator  will  nevertheless  unblushingly 
appeal  to  policies  of  a  century  back,  suitable,  mayhap,  in 
their  day,  but  now  become  a  warning  rather  than  a  guide. 
The  garage-man,  on  the  contrary,  takes  his  mechanism  as  he 
finds  it,  and  does  not  allow  any  mystic  respect  for  the  earlier 
forms  of  the  gas  engine  to  interfere  with  the  needed  adjust¬ 
ments.1 

What  is  the  reason  for  this  startling  contrast?  Why 
do  we  apply  intelligence  to  the  repair  of  our  autoihobiles 
and  refuse  to  apply  it  to  the  much  more  important  hu¬ 
man  relationships?  Is  it  merely,  as  multitudes  would 
have  it,  that  we  lack  the  will,  and  that  a  simple  resolve 
to  be  intelligent,  to  employ  reflective  thinking,  if  it  could 
only  be  carried  out,  would  result  in  as  revolutionary 
changes  in  social  conditions  as  has  the  application  of 
scientific  thought  to  our  control  over  the  forces  and  re¬ 
sources  of  Nature?  Need  we  only  to  repent  and  be  con¬ 
verted? 

Assuredly,  our  souls  need  repentance,  and  there  can¬ 
not  be  laid  too  great  emphasis  on  the  necessity  for  the 
most  intense  application  of  reflective  thinking  to  the 
problems  of  man.  That  is  why  we  have  examined  and 
formulated  the  methods  that  have  in  the  natural  sci¬ 
ences  proved  so  successful.  But  we  must  recognize,  if 
we  would  hope  for  anything  like  the  results  that  have 

1  The  Mind  in  the  Making ,  p.  8. 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


281 


been  therein  achieved,  that  the  field  of  human  relation¬ 
ships  presents  difficulties  beside  which  any  in  the  natural 
sciences  seem  simplicity  itself.  The  backwardness  of  the 
social  sciences  is  not  due  to  any  neglect  by  the  pathfinder, 
for  it  is  probable  that  the  amount  of  reflective  thinking 
devoted  to  these  problems  far  exceeds  that  spent  on  the 
interpretation  of  nature.  It  is  due  to  causes  which  are 
in  the  nature  of  things  ineradicable,  and,  unless  we  de¬ 
sire  these  difficulties  to  remain  insuperable,  we  must 
frankly  recognize  their  existence  and  endeavor  to  coun¬ 
teract  them. 

We  have  seen  that  the  prerequisites  for  the  formation 
and  testing  of  suggestions  are  a  body  of  exact  and  classi¬ 
fied  knowledge  of  the  general  laws  or  patterns  we  may 
expect  to  discover,  comparative  freedom  from  prejudice 
and  preconceptions,  and  the  possibility  of  exact  and 
careful  experimentation.  In  the  field  of  values  none  of 
these  essentials  is  to  be  discovered.  We  have  very  few 
definitely  established  laws  upon  which  we  can  count  in 
social  phenomena,  we  have  very  intense  loyalties  and 
prejudices,  and  we  have  practically  no  means  of  experi¬ 
mentation  on  an  adequate  scale.  Hence  it  is  exceed¬ 
ingly  difficult  even  to  evaluate  goods  as  means  to  further 
goods.  We  lack  the  primary  knowledge  of  what  certain 
courses  of  action  will  actually  accomplish. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  obstacle  in  the  building  up 
of  a  definite  body  of  knowledge  here  is  the  difficulty  of 
discovering  general  laws  that  will  simplify  the  initial 
confusion  and  complexity  which  greet  us  in  every  field 
of  investigation.  At  first  glance  nature,  too,  seems 
singularly  complicated,  and  the  riotous  profusion  of 
form  and  process  in  a  forest  seems  to  the  ordinary  man 
chaos  itself.  Yet  it  takes  but  the  most  elementary 


232 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


knowledge  for  that  confusion  to  shape  itself  into  a  har¬ 
monious  order;  forms  are  seen  to  resemble  each  other, 
processes  to  repeat  themselves  with  unfailing  regularity. 
The  pattern  of  causal  relationships  is,  indeed,  many- 
colored,  but  the  same  design  is  repeated  through  the 
whole  range  of  nature,  and  when  once  its  essential  motifs 
have  been  discovered,  we  know  what  to  look  for  at  each 
spot.  There  is  a  pattern  that  enables  us  to  predict  with 
fair  accuracy  and  precision  what  events  each  new  mo« 
ment  will  bring  forth,  and  the  utilization  of  that  knowl¬ 
edge  has  verily  extended  the  bounds  of  human  empire 
over  nature. 

Not  so  in  the  field  of  human  activities.  If  there  be 
any  pattern  in  the  warp  and  woof  of  man’s  social  experi¬ 
ence,  it  has  been  so  obscured  by  loose  ends  and  tangled 
skeins  that  men  have  hitherto  been  unable  to  trace  it. 
The  complexity  in  the  field  of  human  affairs  consists  not 
so  much  in  the  chaotic  profusion  of  the  individual  facts 
of  that  experience,  for  in  this  it  differs  little  from  the 
realm  of  nature;  it  lies  rather  in  the  inability  of  man  to 
find  any  simple  laws  upon  which  those  facts  can  be 
strung.  This  makes  it  well-nigh  impossible  to  predict 
what  will  occur,  and  without  prediction  man  is  at  a  loss 
to  control. 

It  is  both  a  cause  and  a  result  of  this  condition  that 
mathematics,  so  successful  in  the  interpretation  of  na¬ 
ture,  seems  quite  impossible  of  application  to  human  na¬ 
ture.  The  loss  which  the  inability  to  use  this  invaluable 
tool  entails  is  incalculable.  It  means  that  accurate 
measurements  are  precluded;  in  society  we  are  to-day 
where  the  physicist  was  as  regards  heat  before  he  had 
invented  a  thermometer.  It  means  that  we  cannot 
formulate  our  social  hypotheses  with  the  precision  lent 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


233 


by  mathematics.  It  means  that  we  are  unable  to  elab¬ 
orate  them  deductively  and  arrive  at  further  exact 
knowledge.  It  means  that  in  the  last  analysis  we  find 
ourselves  at  a  great  disadvantage  in  testing  them. 
There  is,  however,  one  method  by  which  the  facts  of  so¬ 
cial  phenomena  seem  to  lend  themselves  to  quantitative 
treatment:  that  is  the  newly  discovered  science  of  statis¬ 
tics.  By  the  aid  of  statistics  we  can  measure  in  the 
large  what  we  cannot  in  the  small;  and  it  seems  probable 
that,  with  the  increasing  application  of  the  statistical 
method,  that  accuracy  which  mathematics  gives  may 
be  able  to  increase  our  knowledge  and  understanding  of 
the  complexities  of  the  social  sciences.  So  important  is 
this,  and  so  hopeful  appears  the  possibility  of  overcom¬ 
ing  this  tremendous  difficulty  in  the  way  of  reflection, 
that  a  special  chapter  will  be  devoted  to  the  method  of 
handling  such  problems  by  statistics. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten,  however,  that,  when  all  has 
been  said,  there  enter  so  many  incalculable  elements 
into  the  actions  of  human  beings  that  it  is  still  quite  im¬ 
possible  for  us  to  tell,  in  any  individual  case,  just  what 
will  be  the  outcome  of  any  particular  act  which  they  per¬ 
form.  We  can  predict  with  fair  accuracy  how  many 
men  will  commit  suicide  and  how  many  men  will  marry 
in  a  given  community  in  a  year;  but  such  a  general 
statement  will  not  satisfy  our  demands  in  the  field  of  hu¬ 
man  relationships.  We  wish  to  know  whether  John 
Smith  will  commit  suicide  or  marry;  and  that  we  cannot 
predict.  We  are  really  asking  for  much  more  refined 
knowledge  in  the  field  of  values  than  we  ever  ask  for  in 
natural  science.  There  individual  differences  are  mat¬ 
ters  of  little  concern ;  here  they  are  all-important.  Since 
our  demands  are  so  much  greater,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  our  results  are  less  satisfactory. 


234 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


But  it  is  not  merely  the  actual  difficulties  of  the  sub¬ 
ject-matter  that  have  kept  back  the  social  sciences; 
even  if  we  knew  how  to  do  what  we  wished,  we  should 
still  find  ourselves  bound  up  in  a  network  of  old  associa¬ 
tions,  of  traditions  and  tender  memories,  of  blind  preju¬ 
dices  and  hatreds.  The  natural  scientist  is  investigat¬ 
ing  a  field  in  which  after  all  the  average  man  has  very 
little  interest,  and  he  is  for  the  most  part  quite  free  to 
follow  facts  whithersoever  he  finds  that  they  lead.  His 
conclusions  do  not  conflict  with  beliefs  held  dear  by 
men  from  time  immemorial,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
they  lie  in  a  realm  which  the  average  man  has  never  ex¬ 
perienced,  and  in  which,  consequently,  he  has  no  beliefs 
at  all.  It  is  far  different  with  human  relationships. 
Here  every  man  has  a  vital  interest;  the  beliefs  here  are 
bound  up  with  emotional  associations  and  interests 
which  make  every  change  a  mutilation  of  the  living 
flesh.  If  even  the  natural  scientist  has  in  the  past  found 
his  way  blocked  by  such  established  beliefs;  if  a  Galileo 
feels  the  censure  of  the  Church  for  maintaining  that  the 
earth  moves,  or  if  a  Darwin  and  a  Huxley  are  subjected 
to  the  taunts  and  jibes  of  the  unthinking  for  declaring 
the  record  of  the  past,  how  much  more  will  the  man  who 
finds  it  necessary  to  revise  the  fundamental  ways  in 
which  men  live  feel  the  sting  of  social  disapproval  and 
hostility! 

In  the  first  chapter  mention  was  made  of  the  numer¬ 
ous  obstacles  that  strew  the  path  of.  the  investigator  in 
any  field,  the  masses  of  prejudice  and  preconception, 
the  still  more  powerful  inertia  of  habit  and  tradition 
that  prevent  a  frank  and  free  investigation  of  truth.  It 
needs  but  to  be  pointed  out  here  that  it  is  in  the  social 
sciences  that  it  is  most  difficult  to  avoid  them.  Even 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


235 


the  enlightened  mind  can  never  wholly  escape  their  in¬ 
fluence,  and  many  of  the  greatest  pathfinders  have  re¬ 
tained  far  more  of  traditional  ideas  and  prejudices  than 
they  would  care  to  admit  even  to  themselves.  It  is  a 
great  mistake  to  regard  those  men  who  often  stand  in 
the  way  of  scientific  progress  as  consummate  villains  be¬ 
cause  they  cannot  tear  themselves  loose  from  the  mass 
of  inherited  beliefs  in  which  their  minds  are  embedded. 
To  the  ardent  seer  of  new  visions  of  life  made  more  per¬ 
fect,  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  avoid  attributing  the 
most  sinister  of  motives  to  all  those  who  still  feel  the 
grip  of  the  old.  But  this  in  itself  is  but  to  give  way  to  a 
deep-rooted  tendency  of  the  human  mind  that  enters 
in  to  obscure  judgment:  the  desire  to  regard  all  who  in¬ 
tellectually  disagree  with  one  as  morally  bad.  Which  of 
us  is  there  who  is  himself  without  such  sin?  Nothing 
is  more  disheartening  than  the  fitful  flashes  and  shadows 
of  the  mind  that  is  thoroughly  convinced  of  its  own  en¬ 
lightenment,  the  genuine  bigotry  of  the  emancipated. 
It  is  inevitable  that  beliefs  endeared  by  long  association, 
perhaps  learned  at  the  mother’s  knee,  should  seem  com¬ 
pelling  in  the  face  of  disagreeable  facts  whose  only  value 
is  that  they  are  true;  who  of  us,  however  much  he  may 
be  convinced  by  his  reason  of  the  futile  horror  of  war¬ 
fare,  can  fail  to  feel  a  martial  thrill  as  the  band  plays, 
the  flags  fly,  and  the  soldiers  come  marching  down  the 
street?  Prejudices  and  selfish  interests  offer  perhaps 
the  greatest  single  obstacle  to  the  achievement  of  knowl¬ 
edge  in  the  social  sciences;  and  yet  they  must  be  ac¬ 
cepted  as  inevitable  factors  in  the  situation,  with  which 
men  must  reckon,  and  to  remove  which  they  must  de¬ 
vote  much  of  the  precious  time  that  might  have  been 
spent  in  the  direct  ascertaining  of  knowledge. 


2S6 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Moreover,  in  the  third  place,  there  is  this  much  of  rea¬ 
son  on  behalf  of  the  conservatives,  that  in  the  social  sci¬ 
ences  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  experiment  patiently 
in  the  laboratory.  In  fact,  there  exists  no  laboratory. 
The  maxim  of  experimentum  in  corpore  vili  has  no  mean¬ 
ing,  for  no  corpus  vile  exists.  No  human  being  is  cheap 
enough  to  risk  the  danger  of  failure.  Hence  the  neces¬ 
sity  of  carrying  on  social  experimentation  in  the  realm  of 
the  imagination,  where  a  single  false  step  will  not  result 
in  hardship  and  suffering.  And  the  imaginative  foresee¬ 
ing  of  consequences  is  in  human  relationships  so  much 
more  difficult  than  in  the  natural  sciences  that  it  is  com¬ 
monly  said  that  no  plan  of  social  change  is  worth  any¬ 
thing  until  it  has  been  tried  out.  When  a  great  nation 
like  Russia  elects  to  engage  in  social  experimentation 
upon  an  enormous  scale,  we  may  be  intensely  interested, 
and  watch  with  the  utmost  sympathy,  but  we  cannot 
help  regretting  the  inevitable  failures  and  mistakes 
which  must  precede  even  an  eventual  success.  We  can 
only  do  the  best  we  can,  experiment  on  a  small  scale, 
proceed  slowly,  test  carefully  so  far  as  we  are  able,  and 
endeavor  always  to  project  into  the  future  every  possible 
consideration  before  we  set  about  the  actual  verification 
of  our  suggestions. 

These  are  the  difficulties  which  have  made  it  so  hard 
to  find  in  the  field  of  social  relationships  the  fundamen¬ 
tal  causal  patterns  upon  whose  discovery  depends  all 
evaluation  of  means,  and  ultimately  of  ends  also.  We 
can  elaborate  and  evaluate  only  as  we  can  perceive  the 
consequences  and  implications  of  our  choices;  and  in  so¬ 
ciety  we  are  never  sure  what  will  be  the  result  of  a  given 
act.  Before  we  can  go  much  further,  we  must  discover 
definite  causal  patterns,  with  all  the  accuracy  statistics 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


237 


can  furnish.  We  must  rid  ourselves  of  prejudices  and 
preconceptions  and  allow  reflection  a  fair  chance.  And 
we  must  experiment  patiently  and  carefully,  in  actuality 
and  in  imagination. 

Section  4.  The  Reflective  Criticism  of  Standards 

But  after  all  the  most  serious  problems  which  the  con¬ 
sideration  of  values  in  human  relationships  presents  to 
us  lie  not  in  our  inability  to  state  with  any  certainty  just 
what  will  be  the  consequences  of  one  of  our  acts  or 
choices;  difficult  as  is  the  actual  amassing  of  classified 
knowledge  in  this  field,  it  is  not  absolutely  insuperable. 
Modern  psychological  and  statistical  methods  have  en¬ 
abled  us  to  discover  far  more  of  the  patterns  of  the  so¬ 
cial  life  of  men  than  we  had  dreamed  possible  a  few 
years  ago.  If  agreement  can  be  reached  upon  the  de¬ 
sirability  of  aiming  at  some  definite  state  of  affairs,  it 
is  usually  not  impossible  to  establish  with  a  fair  degree 
of  certainty  that  one  proposed  course  will  be  more  apt 
to  bring  about  that  state  than  another.  Thus,  to  re¬ 
fer  again  to  the  example  of  the  chapter  on  law,  when 
once  men  have  decided  that  the  health  and  welfare  of 
the  community  as  a  whole  is  an  end  to  be  preferred  to 
the  high  profits  of  private  individuals,  it  is  not  so  very 
difficult  to  prove  by  statistical  observation  that  unre¬ 
stricted  hours  for  the  labor  of  women  are  much  less  apt 
to  effect  that  end  than  the  legislative  enforcement  of  an 
eight-hour  day.  Could  men  once  agree  on  the  kind  of 
liberty  and  equality  which  a  government  should  secure, 
it  is  not  impossibly  hard  to  determine  whether  certain 
measures  will  or  will  not  be  more  effective  instruments 
toward  that  attainment.  So  long  as  certain  ends  re¬ 
main  unquestioned,  it  is  relatively  easy  to  evaluate  the 
various  proposed  means  for  getting  them. 


238 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


But  supposing  the  question  is  raised,  What  kind  of 
liberty  and  equality  is  best?  Supposing  the  more  ulti¬ 
mate  ends  in  terms  of  which  we  are  evaluating  our 
means  are  themselves  subjected  to  scrutiny?  Supposing 
we  ask  the  relative  importance  of  liberty  and  authority 
in  social  activities,  as  we  do  in  the  chapter  upon  ethics, 
and  endeavor  to  clarify  just  what  we  mean  by  liberty 
and  by  authority?  It  is  when  we  attempt  to  make  such 
an  evaluation  reflectively,  and  to  get  away  from  a  purely 
irrational  appeal  to  force  or  instinctive  preference  or  per¬ 
haps  mere  blind  chance,  that  we  encounter  the  most 
serious  obstacles  of  all. 

All  of  the  difficulties  we  have  seen  in  the  endeavor  to 
discover  what  are  really  purely  objective  facts  in  the 
field  of  human  relationships  are  present,  intensified  a 
thousandfold  when  we  seek  the  better  and  the  worse. 
Such  moral  judgments  are  so  bound  up  with  the  very 
characters  of  men  that  even  to  discuss  them  involves  the 
risk  of  passionate  misunderstanding.  For  it  becomes  a 
question  of  men’s  ultimate  preferences,  those  things 
which  they  hold  to  be  most  dear,  and  in  the  very  nature 
of  the  case  the  frank  and  free  doubting  and  discussion 
which  are  essential  to  the  discovery  of  any  sort  of  knowl¬ 
edge  become  well-nigh  impossible.  To  convict  a  man 
of  error  in  his  aims  and  ideals,  in  his  judgment  of  what  is 
worth  while,  is  far  more  than  to  convict  him  of  an  intel¬ 
lectual  mistake ;  it  is  to  brand  him  with  moral  obliquity 
and  sin,  to  pass  judgment  upon  the  whole  man.  Who 
of  us  does  not  feel  that  the  individual  who  differs  with  us 
upon  the  fundamental  preferences,  who  refuses  to  ac¬ 
knowledge  the  sanctity  of  private  property,  or  who  sees 
no  harm  in  the  permanence  of  warfare  —  who  does  not 
feel  that  such  a  man  is,  indeed,  beyond  the  pale?  It  is 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


239 


rare,  indeed,  that  two  men  can  engage  in  any  discussion 
in  which  they  find  themselves  differing  thus  radically 
without  allowing  the  heat  of  passion  to  obscure  the  light 
of  reason.  To  suggest  even  the  need  of  criticizing  and 
testing  the  commonly  accepted  standards  of  conduct  is 
the  surest  way  to  incur  the  stigma  of  moral  laxity. 

But  even  if  the  investigation  can  be  kept  upon  a  plane 
into  which  there  enters  no  personal  recrimination,  the 
logical  difficulties  themselves  are  appalling.  We  have 
already  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  immediate 
value  of  any  course  of  action  —  that  quality  it  possesses 
of  affording  intrinsic  satisfaction  —  must  play  a  most 
important  part  in  the  complete  picture  of  the  effects  fol¬ 
lowing  upon  it.  But  of  all  the  consequences  of  an  act, 
it  is  most  difficult  of  all  to  foretell  the  amount  of  imme¬ 
diate  satisfaction  it  will  bring  with  it.  Hard  as  it  is  to 
determine  the  total  objective  effects  of,  say,  a  single  he 
which  a  man  tells  to  get  himself  out  of  a  tight  place,  it  is 
infinitely  harder  to  predict  the  importance  he  will  as¬ 
sign  to  the  avoidance  of  that  momentary  embarrass¬ 
ment  to-morrow  morning  or  next  week.  It  has  been  the 
advice  of  wise  men  from  Plato  down  to  endeavor  so  far 
as  possible  to  escape  from  the  immediate  present  and  to 
look  at  our  acts  as  they  will  appear  to  us  a  month  or  a  year 
hence.  But  the  pleasure  of  the  moment  is  strong,  and 
the  appeal  of  future  good  is  notoriously  weak.  Video 
meliora  proboque,  deteriora  sequor  —  what  is  this  but  the 
cry  of  humanity  that  immediate  satisfaction,  even 
though  temporary  and  evanescent,  outweighs  more 
permanent  good?  The  cynic  who  said,  “  There  is  but 
one  thing  in  the  world  more  terrible  than  not  getting 
what  you  want,  and  that  is  getting  it,”  was  a  profound 
observer  of  human  striving  and  aspiration.  For  the 


240  REFLECTIVE  THINKING 

i 

gratification  which  the  satisfaction  of  immediate  de¬ 
sires  will  bring  is  the  most  unpredictable  thing  in  the 
world,  and  nothing  is  more  universal  than  for  anticipa¬ 
ted  pleasure  to  turn  to  dust  and  ashes  when  it  is  finally 
in  one’s  grasp.  Just  in  so  far  as  allowance  is  made  for 
the  respective  satisfactions  which  it  seems  various  goods 
will  bring  with  them,  an  element  is  introduced  into  such 
deliberation  about  values  which  makes  any  strictly  ob¬ 
jective  calculation  impossible.  And  yet  not  to  take  it 
into  account  would  be  the  most  irrational  course  of  all. 

The  only  basis  for  giving  to  such  pleasures  their 
proper  weight  in  the  developed  picture  is  that  of  actual 
and  repeated  experience  with  them.  Only  he  who 
knows  both  the  better  and  the  worse  can  be  a  judge  of 
which  is  the  better;  only  he  who  has  eaten  of  the  fruit 
of  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil  can  engage 
in  moral  deliberation.  It  is,  for  example,  the  inability  of 
the  average  respectable  moralist  to  comprehend  the  ap¬ 
peal  which  the  worse  course  can  make,  as  well  as  the 
better  —  it  is  his  lack  of  a  sympathetic  acquaintance 
with  all  of  the  values  entering  into  the  problem  —  that 
makes  the  great  mass  of  what  ordinarily  passes  for 
moral  guidance  and  exhortation  quite  worthless.  But 
when  a  man  can  say,  like  Augustine,  “I  have  tried  both 

—  I  have  dwelt  amidst  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  and  I 
have  journeyed  through  the  wilderness  into  the  Prom¬ 
ised  Land,  and  I  tell  you  that  all  the  delights  of  iniquity 
are  as  naught  to  the  enduring  worth  of  righteousness” 

—  when  a  man  has  experienced  both,  he  can  speak  as 
one  possessing  authority,  and  his  words  will  be  heark¬ 
ened  to  for  generations. 

It  may  well  happen  that  men  disagree  upon  the  ap¬ 
peal  of  various  goods  for  lack  of  actual  experience  with 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


241 


them.  No  one  who  had  never  heard  a  single  symphony 
of  Beethoven  performed  would  be  accepted  as  a  compe¬ 
tent  judge  of  the  respective  merits  of  Beethoven  and 
Irving  Berlin.  We  laugh  at  the  Frenchman  who  tried 
to  prove  that  Victor  Hugo  was  a  greater  poet  than 
Goethe,  when  we  learn  that  he  could  not  read  a  word  of 
German.  And  yet  not  a  day  passes  that  we  do  not 
make  ourselves  some  judgment  of  value  upon  an  equally 
meager  experience.  To  a  man  who  is  manifestly  basing 
his  opinion  upon  some  such  one-sided  knowledge  of  the 
facts,  we  can  only  say,  as  Pascal  said  to  the  dissolute  no¬ 
bility  to  whom  he  was  trying  to  prove  the  worth  and 
value  of  the  Christian  religion  at  its  best,  “  Try  it,  taste  of 
its  fruits,  and  then  decide  whether  human  life  is  not  the 
richer  for  it  and  the  poorer  without  it.” 

John  Stuart  Mill  well  expresses  this  fact,  that  only  he 
who  has  tasted  the  higher  as  well  as  the  lower  forms  of 
satisfaction  is  a  competent  judge  of  which  is  the  more  ap¬ 
pealing,  in  a  passage  in  his  Utilitarianism  that  has  be¬ 
come  classic: 

Now  it  is  an  unquestionable  fact  that  those  who  are  equally 
acquainted  with,  and  equally  capable  of  appreciating  and  en¬ 
joying,  both,  do  give  a  most  marked  preference  to  the  manner 
of  existence  which  employs  their  higher  faculties.  Few  hu¬ 
man  creatures  would  consent  to  be  changed  into  any  of  the 
lower  animals,  for  a  promise  of  the  fullest  allowance  of  a 
beast’s  pleasure;  no  intelligent  human  being  would  consent 
to  be  a  fool,  no  instructed  person  would  be  an  ignoramus,  no 
person  of  feeling  and  conscience  would  be  selfish  and  base, 
even  though  they  should  be  persuaded  that  the  dunce,  the 
fool,  or  the  rascal  is  better  satisfied  with  his  lot  than  they  are 
with  theirs.  They  would  not  resign  what  they  possess  more 
than  he  for  the  most  complete  satisfaction  of  all  the  desires 
which  they  have  in  common  with  him.  .  .  .  It  is  better  to  be  a 
human  being  dissatisfied  than  a  pig  satisfied,-  better  to  be 


242 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Socrates  dissatisfied  than  a  fool  satisfied.  And  if  the  fool,  or 
the  pig,  are  of  a  different  opinion,  it  is  because  they  only 
know  their  own  side  of  the  question.  The  other  party  to  the 
comparison  knows  both  sides.1 

In  the  last  analysis,  the  final  test  of  the  relative  worth 
of  values  must  be  experience,  just  as  the  final  test  of 
any  truth  must  come  down  to  an  experienced  agreement 
with  fact.  That  is  why  in  any  process  of  evaluation 
there  must  be  an  initial  agreement  on  some  thing  as 
good,  on  some  standard  as  valid.  Could  the  scientists 
not  agree  upon  certain  observed  facts,  there  could  be  no 
science;  could  men  not  agree  upon  some  standards, 
there  could  be  no  reflective  choices  of  competing  goods. 

Yet  it  still  remains  true  that  many  men  would  disa¬ 
gree,  even  after  a  thorough  experience  of  various  values, 
as  to  the  relative  importance  to  be  assigned  to  each  in 
any  ultimate  standard  of  what  constituted  a  good  life. 
It  often  happens  that  the  process  of  clarifying  ends  re¬ 
sults  in  a  more  marked  disagreement  than  at  the  outset. 
Men  who  could  fight  together  for  the  ideal  of  democracy 
might  well  quarrel  with  each  other  if  they  came  to  an¬ 
alyze  precisely  what  they  meant  by  that  vague  and  gen¬ 
erous  concept.  Yet  even  if  they  finally  came  to  blows 
themselves,  they  would  know  more  clearly  what  they 
were  fighting  for,  and  that  conflict  would  be  fraught 
with  a  more  genuine  significance.  The  Northern  and 
the  Southern  Colonies  fought  England  twice  in  defense 
of  their  liberty;  then  for  a  generation  their  statesmen 
engaged  in  a  process  of  clarifying  just  what  they  meant 
by  that  liberty.  That  led  to  the  Civil  War;  but  at  least 
the  liberty  which  was  at  stake  in  that  conflict  possessed 
a  richer  meaning  than  the  vaguer  liberty  of  the  Revolu- 

1  Utilitarianism,  chap.  n. 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


243 


tion.  And,  after  all,  both  North  and  South  did  agree  on 
most  of  the  essential  points,  and  the  very  fact  of  the 
final  clarification  on  the  field  of  battle  has  made  possible 
a  much  fuller  cooperation  since.  The  chapter  on  ethics 
is  to  deal  with  an  issue  in  which  all  these  points  are 
brought  out  clearly. 

But  this  fact  of  what  constitutes  perhaps  an  ultimate 
disagreement  on  important  preferences,  which  cannot  be 
settled  by  an  appeal  to  experience  because  experience 
differs  from  man  to  man,  does  lead  to  the  most  pro¬ 
found  difficulty  of  all  in  any  consideration  of  values. 

Judgments  are  assertions  about  matters  of  fact  or 
about  the  relations  of  ideas ;  they  are  true  or  false,  and  if 
true  for  one,  they  are  true  for  all.  But  preferences,  it 
may  be  objected,  are  not  true  or  false;  they  are  personal 
traits;  and,  although  a  preference  may  be  shared  by 
many  people,  it  is  none  the  worse  for  being  peculiar  to 
one  individual.  Our  judgments  of  value,  it  may  be 
urged,  are  really  nothing  more  than  expressions  of  taste; 
and,  if  the  proverb  that  there  is  no  disputing  about 
tastes  is  not  quite  an  axiom,  it  can  hardly  be  denied 
a  large  measure  of  truth.  An  argument  can  always  be 
brought  to  an  end  if  we  agree  to  call  the  point  in  ques¬ 
tion  “a  matter  of  taste,”  and  though  it  would  doubtless 
be  a  mistake  to  attach  too  much  stress  to  a  convention 
by  which  we  are  accustomed  to  avoid  continuing  a  debate 
that  has  begun  to  seem  unprofitable,  we  can  hardly  deny 
the  fact  any  significance  at  all.  A  man  who  says  that 
New  York  is  more  populous  than  London  can  be  con¬ 
victed  of  error  with  a  conclusiveness  not  to  be  hoped  for 
if  he  says  that  the  view  of  New  York  from  the  bay  is 
more  impressive,  or  less  impressive,  than  the  view  of 
London  from  the  Thames.  Of  the  latter  statement  we 


£44 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


may  say  that  it  all  depends  on  what  you  find  impressive; 
one  man  may  prefer  mere  bigness,  another  architectural 
harmony  and  the  presence  of  historical  associations,  and 
who  is  to  judge  between  them?  If  I  prefer  ripe  olives  to 
green  olives,  and  you  prefer  green  to  ripe,  neither  of  us, 
probably,  is  prepared  to  call  the  other  wrong,  though 
each  may  be  convinced  that  his  own  taste  is  the  more  re¬ 
fined.  If  we  differ  on  the  relative  merits  of  iEschylus  and 
Shakespeare,  there  is  more  room  for  debate,  and  per¬ 
haps  slightly  more  hope  of  agreement,  but  certainly  we 
cannot  expect  a  demonstrative  conclusion  on  either  side. 
Even  if  we  take  a  judgment  which  seems  to  admit  of  no 
dispute,  such  as  that  Othello  is  a  greater  tragedy  than 
The  Easiest  Way ,  proof  seems  impossible  to  find;  more 
people  will  pay  to  see  the  latter,  and  to  what  quarter 
are  we  to  look  for  an  authoritative  condemnation  of 
their  judgment? 

The  same  sort  of  criticism  may  be  extended  to  moral 
judgments.  The  statement  that  murder  is  wrong  seems 
to  command  assent  almost  as  universal  as  that  lead 
is  heavier  than  water.  We  can,  however,  assent  to  a 
statement  only  when  we  know  its  meaning,  and  when 
wre  begin  to  examine  the  assertion  that  murder  is  wrong 
we  find  that  it  has  no  such  unmistakable  significance  as 
the  assertion  about  lead  and  water.  The  terms  of  the 
latter  are  absolutely  specific,  and  within  reasonable  lim¬ 
its  we  can  be  quite  sure  when  a  substance  is  lead  or 
water.  To  define  “murder,”  however,  is  by  no  means  a 
simple  affair.  To  kill  a  man  is  not  murder  unless  it  is 
done  with  malice  aforethought  and  in  the  absence  of 
justifying  circumstances.  Homicide  in  self-defense  or 
in  war  is  not  generally  regarded  as  unjustifiable,  nor  is  a 
man  a  murderer  when  in  anger  he  strikes  a  blow  not  in- 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


245 


tended  to  be  fatal.  We  cannot,  in  other  words,  identify 
an  act  of  homicide  with  murder  until  we  have  made  sure 
of  a  set  of  circumstances  at  least  part  of  which,  the 
frame  of  mind  of  the  alleged  murderer,  is  in  the  nature  of 
the  case  uncertain.  We  have  virtually  prejudged  an 
act  as  immoral  in  calling  it  murder,  and  the  moral  judg¬ 
ment  that  murder  is  immoral  is  to  that  extent  tautolo- 
gous  and  not  a  true  judgment  at  all.  If  this,  probably 
the  least  doubtful  of  all  moral  judgments,  thus  turns  out 
to  be  uncertain  in  its  application,  there  seems  to  be  little 
probability  that  any  other  of  our  precepts  for  conduct 
will  stand  on  a  firmer  logical  footing,  and  this  we  find 
upon  examination  to  be  the  truth.  Bribery,  deception, 
theft,  are  all  doubtless  wrong.  But  these  are  vague 
terms :  Is  a  man  who  to  keep  his  position  refrains  from 
expressing  unpopular  opinions  accepting  his  salary  as  a 
bribe  for  betraying  the  truth?  Is  he  deceiving  his  em¬ 
ployer  and  securing  money  under  false  pretenses?  We 
cannot  answer  these  questions  in  the  affirmative  until  we 
have  decided  in  the  light  of  all  the  circumstances  that 
the  act  is  wrong,  and  our  alleged  moral  certainties  turn 
out  in  consequence  to  be  little  more  than  statements  that 
what  is  immoral  is  immoral.  It  can  scarcely  be  main¬ 
tained  that  such  judgments  are  of  the  same  logical 
standing  as  the  Pythagorean  theorem  or  the  law  of 
gravitation. 

This  conclusion  about  the  validity  of  moral  laws  is 
enormously  reinforced  when  we  discover  the  variations 
in  moral  standards  in  time  and  place.  We  should  con¬ 
sider  nothing  more  outrageous  than  to  burn  a  man  alive 
rather  than  to  permit  him  to  differ  with  us  on  a  matter 
of  opinion.  This,  however,  was  regarded  not  so  many 
centuries  ago  as  not  only  a  permissible  method  of  con- 


246 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


troversy,  but  also  as  a  moral  and  religious  duty  if  the 
controversy  were  about  matters  of  serious  importance. 
The  moral  skeptic  is  therefore  led  to  generalize:  to  say 
that  anything  is  wrong  is  to  say  that  it  displeases  me, 
and  to  say  no  more.  “Cruelty  is  immoral,”  “  Boast¬ 
ing  is  vulgar,”  ‘“Way  Down  East’  is  a  bad  play,” 
“Men  should  not  use  perfume,”  and,  “It  is  barbarous 
to  put  maple-syrup  on  lobster-salad,”  are  all,  from  the 
point  of  view  of  logic,  indistinguishable. 

To  these  arguments  of  the  complete  moral  skeptic,  it 
must  be  admitted,  there  can  be  made  no  conclusive  and 
irrefutable  reply.  But  neither  can  any  conclusive  reply 
be  made  to  the  skeptic  in  any  field,  not  even  to  the 
man  who  assails  that  vast  edifice  of  observation  and  in¬ 
ference  we  call  scientific  truth.  When  all  has  been  said 
in  favor  of  skepticism,  it  remains  clear  that  men  must 
act,  that  some  acts  are  better  than  others,  and  that  some 
basis  of  discrimination  must  be  used.  The  skeptic  is 
right  in  maintaining  that  at  some  point  all  our  knowl¬ 
edge,  of  sense-fact,  of  mathematical  truth,  of  inference, 
of  values,  rests  upon  unproved  assumptions.  Yet  it  is  ob¬ 
viously  the  part  of  reason  to  make  these  assumptions  as 
fundamental  as  possible,  to  choose  those  that  appear 
the  least  uncertain,  and  to  introduce  them  only  when  re¬ 
flection  has  reached  its  limits.  To  maintain  that,  be¬ 
cause  ultimately  it  is  a  matter  of  preference  that  wan¬ 
ton  taking  of  human  life  is  bad,  we  should  slay  the 
man  next  door,  would  be  as  foolish  and  impossible  as  to 
maintain  that,  because  men  lie  and  the  senses  deceive, 
every  statement  is  as  good  and  as  true  as  any  other. 

Nor  is  it  by  any  means  certain  that  disagreements 
are  as  absolute  as  the  moral  skeptic  affirms.  When  men 
have  actually  experienced  several  different  goods,  there 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


247 


is  generally  fairly  unanimous  agreement  about  them. 
The  South  tried  slavery,  and  it  has  tried  emancipation; 
and  the  number  of  Southerners  who  would  prefer  to  re¬ 
turn  to  slavery  is  certainly  much  fewer  than  the  number 
who  would  reject,  say,  the  “ objectively  established” 
theory  of  evolution.  Before  1914  there  were  men  who 
proclaimed  war  to  be  a  good ;  but  since  we  have  experi¬ 
enced  that  state  of  affairs,  such  individuals,  if  there  still 
be  any,  have  preserved  a  pretty  complete  silence. 

No  one  who  has  ever  tried  to  work  out  the  solution  to 
any  complex  problem  of  evaluation  can  ever  be  misled 
into  thinking  it  an  easy  matter.  No  one  who  has  ever 
been  called  upon  to  choose  definitely  between  two  com¬ 
plicated  courses  of  action  can  feel  confident  that  he  has 
chosen  rightly.  For  he  will  know  that  it  is  exceedingly 
difficult  to  foresee  what  consequences  acts  will  have, 
that  one  can  never  be  sure  he  has  included  all  the  rele¬ 
vant  values  in  his  picture  of  the  future,  and  that  the 
end  which  he  has  unquestioningly  accepted  may  very 
possibly  clash  with  other  ends  he  would  regard  as  of 
much  greater  importance.  He  will  know  that  a  most  im¬ 
portant  element  of  the  future  consequences  of  his  choice, 
the  satisfaction  he  will  thereby  attain  for  his  immedi¬ 
ate  desires  and  preferences,  is  something  very  largely 
eluding  determination  in  advance,  and  that  it  is  cer¬ 
tainly  an  element  that  varies  with  every  man  and  every 
situation,  and  hence  makes  it  virtually  impossible  to  lay 
down  any  universal  principles  whose  application  is  not 
tempered  by  a  large  consideration  of  the  individual 
character  involved. 

But  while  we  may  recognize  that  there  is  of  necessity 
a  very  large  irrational  element  in  every  judgment  of 
value,  an  element  that  depends  upon  the  constitution  of 


248 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


the  man  concerned,  as  well  as  upon  the  ultimate  end  or 
criterion  which  may  or  may  not  be  able  to  stand  up  if  it 
itself  is  submitted  to  test,  nevertheless  we  should  not  let 
our  keen  realization  of  the  limitations  of  reflection  in 
dealing  with  the  field  of  values  prevent  our  endeavor  to 
introduce  it  into  such  problems  to  the  greatest  degree  of 
which  we  are  capable.  It  may  not  be  a  large  work  that 
it  can  accomplish;  compared  with  the  success  of  reflec¬ 
tion  in  dealing  with  the  much  less  difficult  problems  of 
natural  science,  it  may  well  appear  a  feeble  rushlight. 
But  in  the  darkness  and  confusion  in  which  we  are  wan¬ 
dering  the  tiniest  match  can  furnish  enough  illumination 
to  save  us  many  a  hard  knock  and  disaster. 

Section  5 .  The  Emergence  of  Standards  and  General 

Principles 

We  have  seen  how  the  process  of  evaluation  consists 
in  testing  out  various  suggested  goods  by  the  way  in 
which  they  produce  further  desirable  fruits.  This  does 
not  mean,  however,  that  in  every  particular  case  involv¬ 
ing  values  it  is  necessary  to  resort  to  this  conscious  re¬ 
flection,  any  more  than  it  is  necessary  for  the  astrono¬ 
mer  to  prove  the  heliocentric  theory  every  time  he  looks 
upon  the  stars.  In  the  course  of  our  experience  of  judg¬ 
ing  the  relative  value  of  different  goods,  we  build  up 
certain  moral  principles,  certain  generalizations  which 
will  serve  as  criteria  for  further  doubtful  cases.  To  take 
our  original  illustration,  we  should  probably  decide  to  use 
the  subway  unless  special  considerations  made  the  bus 
more  attractive;  having  decided  which  shall  have  the 
priority,  if  need  be,  we  develop  a  set  of  rules  we  can  ap¬ 
ply  without  too  great  expenditure  of  time  and  energy. 
Neither  do  we  have  to  deliberate  when  passing  a  fruit- 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


£49 

stand  whether  it  is  better  to  steal  or  to  buy  the  fruit ;  we 
have  learned  that  stealing  is  bad,  and  that  principle  re¬ 
mains  for  us  unquestioned.  In  all  the  practical  exigen¬ 
cies  of  life  these  principles  remain  given,  the  points  of 
reference  by  which  all  doubtful  cases  can  be  decided ;  in 
a  sense  so  far  as  that  problem  is  concerned,  they  are  ac¬ 
cepted  as  absolute.  As  such  they  facilitate  immensely 
the  solution  of  difficulties,  summing  up  as  they  do  large 
bodies  of  experience,  classifying  our  values  under  gen¬ 
eral  heads.  We  should  be  as  helpless  without  them  as 
would  the  scientist  without  his  accumulated  and  classi¬ 
fied  body  of  established  beliefs  on  which  to  rely.  And 
yet  there  is  a  very  real  danger  that  these  general  prin¬ 
ciples,  important  and  useful  as  they  are  if  they  are 
rightly  regarded  as  summations  of  past  experience,  may 
come  to  be  looked  upon  as  fixed  and  unalterable,  not 
themselves  amenable  to  further  testing.  They  may  be 
removed  entirely  from  the  field  to  which  reflection  is  ap¬ 
plied,  and  become  the  fixed  dogmas  of  the  orthodox 
moralist. 

As  John  Dewey  so  well  puts  it: 

Morals  must  be  a  growing  science  if  it  is  to  be  a  science  at 
all,  not  merely  because  all  truth  has  not  yet  been  appropri¬ 
ated  by  the  mind  of  man,  but  because  life  is  a  moving  affair  in 
which  old  moral  truth  ceases  to  apply.  .  .  .  Principles  exist  as 
hypotheses  with  which  to  experiment.  Human  history  is  long. 
There  is  a  long  record  of  past  experimentation  in  conduct, 
and  there  are  cumulative  verifications  which  give  many  prin¬ 
ciples  a  well-earned  prestige.  Lightly  to  disregard  them  is 
the  height  of  foolishness.  But  social  situations  alter;  and  it 
is  also  foolish  not  to  observe  how  old  principles  actually  work 
under  new  conditions,  and  not  to  modify  them  so  that  they 
will  be  more  effectual  instruments  in  judging  new  cases. 
Many  men  are  now  aware  of  the  harm  done  in  legal  matters 


250 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


by  assuming  the  antecedent  existence  of  fixed  principles  un¬ 
der  which  every  new  case  may  be  brought.  They  recognize 
that  this  assumption  merely  puts  a  premium  on  ideas  devel¬ 
oped  under  by-gone  conditions,  and  that  their  perpetuation 
in  the  present  works  iniquity.  Yet  the  choice  is  not  between 
throwing  away  rules  previously  developed  and  sticking  ob¬ 
stinately  by  them.  The  intelligent  alternative  is  to  revise, 
adapt,  expand,  and  alter  them.  The  problem  is  one  of  con¬ 
tinuous,  vital  readaptation.1 

This  adaptive  process,  the  continuous  application  of 
principles  to  particular  cases  and  the  accompanying  re¬ 
vision  of  those  principles,  so  important  in  every  branch 
of  human  relationships,  is  the  especial  subject  of  the 
chapter  upon  the  law  that  is  to  follow.  Therein  will  be 
considered  the  problems  that  arise  in  the  application  of 
such  general  maxims  as  have  been  developed  in  the 
course  of  centuries  and  enshrined  in  the  body  of  our  law. 
They  form  a  group  of  standards  which,  taken  collec¬ 
tively,  comprise  the  very  essence  of  our  civilization. 
They  are  the  principles  which  have  emerged  through 
long  experience.  The  lawyers  have  developed  a  most 
interesting  technique  for  applying  those  general  prin¬ 
ciples  which  are  accepted  by  the  public  opinion  of  the 
country  and  embodied  in  its  legal  system,  to  the 
many  particular  cases  of  competing  values  which  are 
brought  before  them  for  judgment.  Of  course,  such 
general  rules  must  be  modified  to  fit  each  particular 
case  and  each  particular  problem;  and  how  this  is  done 
we  shall  endeavor  to  ascertain. 

In  summary,  then,  the  field  of  values  presents  great 
difficulties,  not  only  in  the  meager  knowledge  we  can  ac¬ 
tually  obtain  about  the  functioning  of  the  factors  in  hu¬ 
man  relationships,  but  even  more  in  the  arriving  at  pro- 
1  Dewey,  Human  Nature  and  Conduct ,  pp.  239-40. 


REFLECTION  IN  VALUES 


251 


visional  standards  by  which  any  courses  of  action  may 
be  judged.  The  most  promising  method  for  reflection 
to  follow  is  to  elaborate  suggestions  until  there  does 
emerge  some  further  standard  by  which  they  can  be 
judged;  and  then,  applying  what  knowledge  is  at  our 
disposal,  to  try  to  evaluate  our  conflicting  courses  of  ac¬ 
tion  in  the  light  of  the  consequences  that  appear  to  flow 
from  them. 

QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  Give  several  examples  of  choices  which  involve  merely  the  evalua¬ 
tion  of  means,  and  illustrate  the  reasoning  leading  to  a  decision. 

2.  Give  several  cases  in  which  it  is  necessary  to  choose  between  com¬ 
peting  ends.  In  how  far  can  these  choices  be  made  reflectively? 
To  what  extent  does  irrational  preference  enter? 

3.  A  man  is  confronted  with  the  alternatives  of  stuffing  a  ballot-box 
or  seeing  a  very  undesirable  candidate  elected.  Elaborate  both 
possibilities  to  bring  out  all  the  implications  of  each.  Does  it  then 
become  clearer  which  choice  is  to  be  preferred?  Do  you  arrive  at 
any  definite  criterion? 

4.  Make  a  list  of  things  whose  chief  value  lies  in  the  immediate  satis¬ 
faction  they  bring.  Make  another  list  of  things  whose  chief  value 
lies  in  the  further  goods  they  effect.  Is  there  in  either  list  anything 
which  could  not  on  occasion  be  placed  in  the  other  list? 

5.  How  would  you  set  about  proving  to  your  friend  that  he  ought  to 
hear  a  symphony  concert  to-night  instead  of  going  to  the  movies? 
Trace  the  three  stages  in  the  process  in  some  detail. 

6.  Mention  a  few  of  the  precepts  of  conventional  morality  that  could 
probably  maintain  themselves  in  the  light  of  reflective  criticism, 
and  indicate  the  general  lines  of  their  defense.  Mention  some  that 
you  think  could  not,  and  give  the  reasons  that  would  influence  you 
to  abandon  the  latter. 

7.  What  standards  did  the  Utilitarians  agree  upon  in  their  arguments 
for  the  revolutionary  principles? 

8.  What  further  end  might  democrats  and  aristocrats  agree  upon  to 
test  out  their  respective  theories? 

9.  Name  a  few  definite  causal  patterns  that  have  been  discovered  in 
the  field  of  human  relations. 

10.  Enumerate  the  chief  difficulties  in  the  way  of  developing  a  genuine 
social  science.  How  might  they  be  removed? 

11.  How  would  you  set  about  to  determine  the  respective  satisfactions 
which  two  courses  of  action  might  bring? 

12.  Name  a  few  moral  standards  that  have  proved  useful  classifications 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


252 

of  values.  Illustrate  the  need  and  the  process  of  revision  and  adap¬ 
tation. 

13.  How  would  you  prove  that  it  was  not  wrong  to  dance?  That  it  was 
wrong  to  take  human  life  wantonly? 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

On  the  Process  of  Evaluation: 

J.  Bentham:  Introduction  to  the  Principles  of  Morals  and  Legislation . 

Oxford  University  Press.,  1907. 

John  Stuart  Mill:  Utilitarianism.  Everyman’s  Library. 

John  Dewey :  How  We  Think.  D.  C.  Heath  &  Co.,  1910. 

Human  Nature  and  Conduct.  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1922. 
On  the  foundations  of  Democracy: 

J.  Bryce:  Modern  Democracies.  The  Macmillan  Company,  1921. 

J.  Bentham:  Anarchical  Fallacies.  - 


CHAPTER  X 

MEASUREMENTS  FOR  USE  IN  SOCIAL  DECISIONS 

Section  1 .  Two  Ways  of  Choosing  a  Career 

Many  persons  are  consciously  anxious  to  choose  a  ca¬ 
reer  in  which  they  will  be  happy  and  successful.  They 
would  like  so  to  live  that  they  would  find  personal  satis¬ 
faction  and  give  to  society  the  benefit  of  whatever  tal¬ 
ents  they  possess.  Frequently  such  anxiety  is  not  felt 
by  the  persons  directly  concerned,  but  is  keenly  present 
in  the  minds  of  their  parents  or  advisers,  or  in  the  de¬ 
sires  of  statesmen  to  know  how  a  community  or  a  na¬ 
tion  may  help  its  citizens  to  make  the  best  use  of  them¬ 
selves  and  to  contribute  most  to  the  common  good. 

When,  however,  we  consider  the  reasons  which  lie 
back  of  the  advice  given  to  a  boy  on  his  life  plans  we 
find  very  frequently  that  desire  to  raise  the  family 
prestige,  the  father’s  estimate  of  the  monetary  returns 
of  the  prospective  career,  the  mother’s  fondness  for  an 
uncle  who  followed  that  calling,  the  ease  of  preparation 
for  that  vocation,  the  feeling  that  “  this  kind  of  job  is  as 
good  as  any  other,”  and  dozens  of  similar  guesses  and 
whimsies  are  the  sole  bases  for  a  decision.  In  business, 
when  men  are  selected  for  different  positions,  “ systems” 
of  an  equally  inexact  character  are  often  followed. 
Some  firms  will  have  only  blond  salesmen,  others  only 
men  with  dark  complexions,  some  tall  men,  some  men 
with  sharp  noses.1  To  use  such  methods  of  vocational 

1  C.  S.  Yoakum,  “Basic  Experiments  in  Vocational  Guidance.”  Jour¬ 
nal  of  Personnel  Research,  vol.  i,  no.  1,  May,  1922. 


£54 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


choice  or  of  placement  is  to  abandon  reason  completely* 
and  to  disregard  our  need  for  exact  knowledge  in  matters 
requiring  a  well-founded  belief. 

It  is  clear  that  we  need  more  than  exact  knowledge  in 
order  to  decide  on  a  career.  Some,  unhappily  many, 
persons  are  so  poor  in  this  world’s  goods  that  they  can¬ 
not  follow  the  course  of  life  which  would  mean  most  to 
them  and  to  society.  Such  poverty  may  not  prevent  a 
person  of  the  very  highest  natural  or  native  ability,  ca¬ 
pacity,  or  endowment  from  reaching  his  goal,  but  it  is 
undoubtedly  a  barrier  which  many  cannot  surmount. 

Suppose  that  we  consider,  however,  a  boy  whose  par¬ 
ents  are  able  to  provide  all  needed  advantages.  What 
would  he  and  they  need  to  know?  First,  a  great  deal 
more  information  than  we  now  possess  about  the  exact 
requirements  of  the  different  careers  open  to  men.  We 
might  call  such  information  “  career  specifications.” 
These  would  include  a  great  variety  of  items  of  varying 
specificity,  but  they  would  in  most  cases  include  at  least 
indications  of  the  requirements  in  intelligence,  ability  to 
get  on  with  other  men,  ability  to  take  responsibility,  and 
the  advancement  and  income  which  might  be  expected. 

Next  we  should  have  to  know  whether  the  boy  had 
abilities  to  match  the  “career  specifications.”  Such 
knowledge  would  be  hard  to  get.  Obviously  the  imma¬ 
ture  boy  might  not  have  all  of  these  abilities,  yet  per¬ 
haps  he  would  develop  them  by  the  time  they  should  be 
required.  We  should  need  to  be  able  to  measure  pres¬ 
ent  ability,  and  to  predict  future  ability.  If  we  could 
secure  precise  “career  specifications,”  measurements  of 
present  ability,  and  predictions  based  on  ability  at 
present  possessed,  we  should  be  able  to  approximate  a 
reasoned  decision. 


MEASUREMENT  AND  INQUIRY 


£55 


Section  2.  Individual  Differences  1 

There  are  many  questions  raised  by  the  last  sentence 
of  the  previous  section.  One  may  be:  How  do  we  know 
that  abilities  differ  so  greatly  in  individuals  that  so  care¬ 
ful  an  analysis  as  is  proposed  will  be  significant?  Dur¬ 
ing  the  last  sixty  years  psychology  has  been  at  work  en¬ 
deavoring  to  find  out  whether  individuals  differ  in  capac¬ 
ities,  those  potentialities  with  which  they  come  into  the 
world.  Such  potentialities  we  may  call  native;  they 
cannot  be  created  by  nurture  of  any  kind,  though  they 
may  remain  undeveloped  because  nurture  is  lacking. 
To-day  practically  all  psychologists  believe  that  there 
are  native  differences,  and  that  there  is  a  wide  range  in 
the  possession  of  those  human  traits  which  no  artificial 
development  can  bring  forth.  Psychologists  do  not 
agree  on  the  accuracy  of  our  present  measures  of  these 
abilities,  nor  on  the  exact  analysis  of  these  traits  into 
their  separate  parts,  as,  for  instance,  into  intelligence, 
aggressiveness,  courage,  etc. 

All  would  admit  that  it  is  possible  to  determine  how 
well  each  person  in  a  group  of  four  hundred  does  a  par¬ 
ticular  task,  and  nearly  all  would  say  that  such  tasks  may 
be  set  as  will  reveal  native  ability  and  be  at  least  some 
indication  of  future  development.  One  of  the  most 
striking  examples  of  the  range  of  accomplishment  known 
is  the  record  of  testing  in  the  army.  The  chart  on  page 
256  shows  us  grades  made  by  men  in  a  wide  range  of 
occupations  when  they  took  a  standard  test  which  was 
interpreted  as  a  measure  of  mental  alertness,  of  so-called 
intelligence. 

Men  vary  widely  also  in  traits  which  we  call  moral 

1  See  Chapter  1,  Section  3. 


|  D-  |  D  |  C—  |  C  |  C+  )  B  |  k  1 


c- 


{Laborer 
Gen.  Miner 
Teamster 
Barber 


Horseshoer 

Bricklayer 

Cook 

Baker 

Painter 

Gen.  Blacksmith 
Gen.  Carpenter 
Butcher 
Gen.  Machinist 
Hand  Riveter 


C  s  Tel.  &  Tel.  lineman 
Gen.  Pipefitter 
Plumber 

Tool  &  Gauge  Maker 
Gunsmith 
Gen.  Mechanic 
Gen.  Auto  Repairman 
Auto  Engine  Mechanic 
Auto  Assembler 
Ship  Carpenter 
^Telephone  Operator 


Concrete  Const.  Foreman 
Stock-Keeper 
Photographer 
Telegrapher 
C  4.  ^  R.  R.  Clerk 
Filing  Clerk 
Gen.  Clerk 
Army  Nurse 
k  Book-Keeper 


Dental  Officer 
Mechanical  Draftsman 
Accountant 
Civil  Engineer 
Medical  Officer 


A  {Engineer  Officer  — — 

|  D-  i  D  |  C-  |  C  |  C+  |  5  I  A  | 

The  Range  of  Accomplishment 

Grades  shown  by  army  teste 

Reproduced  from  C.  S.  Yoakum,  “  Basic  Experiments  in  Vocational  Guidance,” 
Journal  of  Personnel  Research,  vol.  1,  no.  1,  May,  1922.  Taken  from  Psychological 
Examining  in  the  United  States  Army,  edited  by  Robert  M.  Yerkes,  National  Academy 
of  Sciences,  vol.  15  (Washington,  1921),  p.  829. 


MEASUREMENT  AND  INQUIRY 


257 


—  honesty,  courage,  dependability,  and  so  on  —  and 
they  show  a  wide  range  of  ability  in  manual  dexterity 
and  in  sensitiveness  to  things  of  beauty. 

Another  question  which  may  be  asked  is  whether  an 
individual  shows  the  same  dominant  ability  and  the  same 
amount  of  it,  relative  to  the  amount  shown  by  his  fel¬ 
lows,  throughout  his  life.  That  is:  Do  the  traits  discern¬ 
ible  in  a  boy  of  ten  appear  in  the  same  relationship  in  a 
man  of  thirty.  To  this  we  must  answer  that  we  do 
not  know  surely,  but  “all  the  experiments  to  date  tend 
to  prove  that  the  relative  mental  capacity  of  the  child 
determines  his  relative  mental  capacity  as  an  adult.” 1 

Section  3 .  Some  Requirements  of  Measures 

The  assertions  which  have  just  been  made  rest  on  in¬ 
vestigation  and  experiment.  Psychologists  have  studied 
human  behavior  and  have  tried  to  use  the  same  caution 
as  other  scientists  and  to  reach  the  same  kind  of  quanti¬ 
tative  basis  as  has  advanced  scientific  study  in  other 
fields.  The  determination  of  quantities  has  been  the 
method  of  testing  out  the  suggestions  which  have  arisen 
as  hypotheses  and,  as  is  so  generally  the  case,  the  attain¬ 
ment  of  exact  data  has  given  rise  to  new  theories. 

To  say  that  measures  are  used  to  determine  quantities 
is  to  say  what  every  one  admits.  All  will  agree,  too,  that 
when  one  knows  “how  much,”  one  is  able  to  carry  on 
comparisons.  Not  every  one,  however,  realizes  the  dif¬ 
ficulties  involved  in  the  use  of  measures  as  aids  to  well- 
founded  beliefs.  It  is  worth  while,  therefore,  to  state 
some  of  the  elements  essential  to  measurement.  First 
of  all,  if  we  want  to  compare  quantities,  we  must  have  a 

1  C.  S.  Yoakum,  “Basic  Experiments  in  Vocational  Guidance,” 
Journal  of  Personnel  Research ,  vol.  i,  no.  1,  May,  1922. 


258 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


numerical  basis;  we  must  count  and  have  ten  of  a,  and 
five  of  a,  and  three  of  a,  and  so  on.  When  we  want  to 
measure  intellectual  ability,  we  devise  a  task  and  set 
every  one  about  this  same  task  in  which  degrees  of  suc¬ 
cess  must  be  expressed  in  figures.  This  raises  a  second 
point:  We  measure  indirectly.  When  we  measure  in¬ 
telligence,  we  are  really  counting  scores;  as  when  we 
measure  temperature,  we  are  measuring  the  height  of  a 
mercury  column  in  a  tube.  We  must  always  define  what 
we  are  directly  measuring  and  then  define  the  thing  for 
which  it  stands.  A  third  point  is  that  we  must  have  con¬ 
stant  units  agreed  upon  (by  convention)  which  are  qual¬ 
itatively  alike,  so  that  they  can  be  added  and  otherwise 
handled  quantitatively.  The  unit  of  the  Fahrenheit 
scale  is  one  one-hundred-and-eightieth  part  of  the  dif¬ 
ference  in  the  height  of  a  column  of  mercury  as  it  rises 
in  water  from  freezing  to  boiling,  but  for  the  Centigrade 
scale  it  is  one  one-hundredth  of  that  distance.  Fourth, 
in  making  measurements  there  must  be  some  point  of 
reference  agreed  upon  by  convention  just  as  the  units 
are.  In  measuring  temperature,  for  instance,  the  point 
of  reference  for  Fahrenheit  is  thirty-two  degrees  below 
freezing,  while  for  Centigrade  it  is  the  freezing  point 
itself.  When  all  these  conditions  are  met,  it  is  possible 
to  say,  for  example,  that  in  this  instance  measured  there 
are  ten  units  with  x  taken  as  the  point  of  reference  in 
the  count,  while  in  that  instance  measured  there  are 
eight  units  with  x  the  point  of  reference.  With  such 
knowledge  exact  comparisons  can  be  made. 

Section  4-.  Putting  Measurements  into  Relation 

In  the  chapter  on  experimental  methods  we  saw  that 
one  of  the  methods  was  called  concomitant  variations. 


MEASUREMENT  AND  INQUIRY  259 

It  could  be  employed  when  two  factors  varied  in  a  con¬ 
stant  relationship.  Now,  in  making  measurements  we  are 
often  interested  in  being  able  to  tell  from  one  measure¬ 
ment  made  what  we  may  expect  concerning  other  ele¬ 
ments  which  have  not  in  that  particular  instance  been 
subjected  to  measurement.  Such  referential  knowledge 
cannot  be  based  on  guess,  but  must  rest  on  previous  in¬ 
vestigations  where  many  instances  in  which  quality  A  is 
measured  have  been  examined  also  for  the  quantitative 
amounts  of  quality  B.  Suppose,  for  instance  that  we 
have  a  group  of  100  with  a  college  entrance  score  of  125. 
We  then  find  out  how  many  of  these  finish  the  Fresh¬ 
man  year  without  failing  a  course.  Perhaps  95  mem¬ 
bers  of  the  group  turn  out  to  have  passed  all  the  courses. 
To  get  greater  accuracy,  suppose  we  increase  the  count 
and  discover  that,  in  a  thousand  cases  of  men  receiving 
125  as  entrance  score,  930  pass  all  Freshman  work.  We 
should  then  feel  justified  in  saying  that  we  have  estab¬ 
lished  a  relationship  between  an  entrance  score  of  125 
and  success  in  Freshman  studies.  If,  then,  we  wanted  to 
make  reasonably  sure  that  93  out  of  100  men  admitted 
to  college  would  pass,  we  should  insist  that  they  all  have 
scores  of  125.  In  other  words,  by  knowing  the  score 
125,  we  could  predict  that  another  element  would  be  in 
co-relation;  namely,  success  in  Freshman  courses.  Stat¬ 
isticians,  working  in  education  or  in  economics  or  in 
health  departments,  or  in  any  of  the  sciences  where  the 
knowledge  of  relationships  and  their  predictability  is  es¬ 
sential,  have  reduced  the  expression  of  correlation  to  a 
numerical  statement.  If  one  element  always  varies  di¬ 
rectly  as  the  other,  this  perfect  positive  correlation  is  ex¬ 
pressed  by  saying  that  the  coefficient  of  correlation  is  1 . 
If  one  element  always  varies  inversely  as  the  other,  this 


260 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


perfect  inverse  correlation  gives  a  coefficient  of  correla¬ 
tion  of  -1.  If  the  variations  in  one  element  bear  no  re¬ 
lation,  direct  or  inverse,  to  those  of  the  other,  this  lack 
of  relationship  is  signified  by  a  coefficient  of  correlation 
of  o.  Correlation  is  an  excellent  example  of  the  truth 
brought  out  in  Chapter  II  that  to  include  a  thing  in  a 
class  carries  with  it  the  implications  of  that  class. 

Section  5 .  The  Application  of  Measurement  to  an 

Individual  Case 

Let  us  now  look  back  at  the  case  of  the  boy  seeking  ad¬ 
vice  as  to  his  career.  If  he  should  think  he  wanted  to  be 
an  engineer,  and  as  a  Freshman  in  college  was  taking 
calculus  and  physics  and  passing  well,  we  might  say  to 
him  that  out  of  100  men  who  passed  these  subjects  85 
graduated  in  the  minimum  time  from  their  engineering 
course.  Such  an  approach  to  accuracy  we  could  attain. 
This  information  would  not  tell  the  student  anything 
in  quantitative  terms  about  the  likelihood  of  success  in 
actual  engineering  practice.  We  should  notice,  more¬ 
over,  that  we  still  could  not  tell  him  that  he  would 
be  one  of  the  85.  Such  statistical  treatments  deal  with 
groups,  and  do  not  predict  as  to  specified  individual 
members  of  a  group.  But  suppose  we  knew  more  about 
engineering  and  found  that  there  were  among  other 
types  designing  engineers,  operating  engineers,  and 
salesmen  engineers.  We  should  want  to  find  out  success 
correlations  with  the  student’s  subjects  and  each  type. 
Did  we  aim  at  the  maximum  advice,  we  should  want  to 
know  in  the  greatest  detail  all  the  duties  of  the  kind  of 
engineering  he  proposed  to  enter,  and  also  the  qualities 
of  mind  and  character  (including  desires)  which  the 
work  demanded.  We  should  need  to  study  each  type  of 


MEASUREMENT  AND  INQUIRY 


261 


engineering  very  carefully  and,  from  the  analysis  of  the 
qualities  in  a  large  number  of  successful  engineers  in  a 
defined  kind  of  work,  determine  the  traits  most  con¬ 
stantly  associated  with  success  in  its  various  ranges. 
These  we  should  express  in  quantitative  terms.  We 
should  then  want  to  determine  again  in  quantitative 
terms  his  possession  of  these  qualities.  We  might  then 
be  able  to  tell  him  into  what  group,  with  a  specified  cor¬ 
relation  with  success  (externally  and  personally  satis¬ 
factory),  he  would  fall.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  we 
are  far,  far  removed  from  such  an  ability  to  predict. 
But  we  are,  nevertheless,  able  to  point  out  lines  of  prob¬ 
able  failure  and  success  with  a  certainty  which  is  of  an 
altogether  and  completely  different  sort  than  could  be 
claimed  by  him  who  chose  his  salesmen  by  the  color  of 
their  hair,  or  advised  his  son  to  go  into  a  profession  be¬ 
cause  of  its  financial  return. 

Section  6.  The  Social  Utility  of  Measurements 

If  the  student  whom  we  have  considered  had  been 
well  advised  and  he  had  entered  a  profession  in  which  he 
would  have  gained  happiness  and  success  and  had 
helped  effectively  to  carry  on  the  work  of  the  world,  we 
should  have  been  using  exact  information  to  some  pur¬ 
pose.  We  should  have  been  discovering  a  causal  pat¬ 
tern  in  social  phenomena,  as  Chapter  IX  put  it. 

There  is  opportunity  in  education  for  the  use  of  exact 
v  measures  on  a  scale  so  great  as  to  dwarf  any  individual 
instances.  When  the  measuring  of  individual  differ¬ 
ences  in  ability  and  interest  finally  reaches  a  complete¬ 
ness  and  accuracy  now  only  dreamed  of,  we  shall  doubt¬ 
less  be  able  to  direct  students  into  a  wide  variety  of 
types  of  education  rather  than  send  them  through  one 


262 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


stereotyped  curriculum.  We  shall  be  able  to  advise, 
furthermore,  as  to  the  probable  profit  of  continuing  the 
education  beyond  a  certain  point,  for  we  shall  be  able  to 
tell  with  considerable  accuracy  how  much  a  person  with 
a  specified  amount  of  ability  may  hope  to  gain  from  con¬ 
tinued  study  in  a  certain  line. 

The  application  of  exact  measurements  to  the  accom¬ 
plishment  of  students  is  important  for  school  systems,  as 
well  as  for  individuals,  for,  when  we  know  how  much 
students  of  x  ability  do  in  School  A>  we  can  compare  the 
effectiveness  of  School  B  which  is  also  training  students 
of  x  ability.  In  this  fashion,  school  administration  is 
given  some  tangible  basis  for  the  criticism  of  its  stand¬ 
ards. 

In  the  study  of  various  political  mechanisms,  as,  for 
instance,  the  referendum,  success  can  within  limits  be 
studied  quantitatively;  and  in  economics  the  equation  of 
wage  and  the  cost  of  living  is  an  excellent  example  of  the 
quantitative  treatment  of  a  public  problem  of  the  great¬ 
est  importance.  Insurance  is  another  instance  of  the 
practical  application  of  the  statistical  method  or  the  de¬ 
termination  of  probabilities  for  groups.  Statistics  have, 
indeed,  been  advanced  partly  because  of  their  utility  in 
the  insurance  field. 

In  all  of  these  applications  of  a  quantitative  method 
what  we  are  doing  is  making  increasingly  clear  the  ac¬ 
tual  situation  with  which  we  are  dealing.  We  are  mak¬ 
ing  a  more  exact  observation  and  classification  possible. 
The  difficulties  of  such  quantitative  treatment  in  the 
field  of  human  life,  with  its  great  variability,  its  rapid 
changes  and  its  responsiveness  to  a  tremendously  com¬ 
plex  multiplicity  of  stimuli  from  within  and  without,  far 
exceed  the  limitations  under  which  quantitative  meas- 


MEASUREMENT  AND  INQUIRY 


263 


ures  in  the  field  of  physics  suffer.  But  the  advantages 
of  exact  knowledge  in  individual  and  social  decisions  are 
readily  appreciated,  and  the  statement  of  Chapter  I,  that 
we  need  human  engineers,  may  now,  perhaps,  be  better 
understood. 


QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  a.  If  some  one  should  question  the  effectiveness  of  the  referendum 

as  a  means  of  finding  out  public  opinion,  why  would  an  advan¬ 
tage  in  determining  the  validity  of  the  question  be  gained  by  a 
study  of  the  vote  on  measures  referred  for  public  expression  of 
acceptance  or  rejection? 

b.  What  kinds  of  information  should  such  a  study  seek? 

c.  What  would  be  the  end  which  referendum  would  serve,  and  under 
what  circumstances  would  it  be  considered  an  effective  means? 

2.  On  the  basis  of  what  findings  through  exact  measures  would  it  be 

desirable,  when  financially  possible: 

a.  To  establish  high  schools  of  widely  different  curricula? 

b.  To  establish  schools  for  the  mentally  retarded  and  mentally  pre¬ 
cocious? 

3.  How  could  physical  fatigue  be  measured  exactly?  Show  why  such 

measurement  might  be  valuable  for  law  makers,  safety  engineers, 
production  managers  in  business. 

4.  a.  In  the  mobilizing  of  an  army  from  private  citizens,  why  would  a 

knowledge  of  the  mental  ability  and  of  the  kind  and  degree  of 
trade  craft  or  professional  skill  be  important? 
b.  How  would  you  go  about  testing  degrees  of  skill  in  telegraph  op¬ 
erators? 

6.  If  you  were  a  manufacturer  of  cotton  dress  goods,  and  wanted  to 
know  what  color  in  gingham  to  manufacture,  what  steps  would 
you  take  to  find  out  the  answer  to  your  problem? 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

D.  C.  Jones:  A  First  Course  in  Statistics.  Bell,  1921. 

W.-'F.  Ogburn:  Methods  of  Direct  Legislation  in  Oregon.  Quarterly  Pub¬ 
lications  of  the  American  Statistical  Association,  June,  1914,  p.  136. 
Harold  Rugg:  Statistical  Method  Applied  to  Education.  Houghton  Mif¬ 
flin  Company,  1917. 

H.  Secrist:  An  Introduction  to  Statistical  Method.  The  Macmillan  Com¬ 
pany,  1917. 

L.  M.  Terman:  The  Measurement  of  Intelligence.  Houghton  Mifflin 
Company,  1916. 


264 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


E.  L.  Thorndike:  An  Introduction  to  the  Theory  of  Mental  and  Social  Mea8~ 
urements,  2d  ed.  Teachers  College,  Columbia  University,  1913. 

E.  L.  Thorndike:  Educational  Psychology.  3  vols.,  Teachers  College, 
Columbia  University.  1913-14. 

B.  D.  Wood:  Measurement  in  Higher  Education,  World  Book  Company, 
1923. 

Robert  M.  Yerkes,  Editor:  Psychological  Examining  in  the  United  States 
Army,  National  Academy  of  Sciences,  vol.  15.  Washington,  Govern¬ 
ment  Printing  Office,  1921. 

G.  S.  Yoakum :  “  Basic  Experiments  in  Vocational  Guidance,”  Journal  ctf 
Personnel  Research ,  vol.  i,  no.  1,  May,  1922. 


CHAPTER  XI 

REFLECTIVE  THINKING  IN  LAW 

Section  1.  The  N on-Reflective  Growth  of  Law 

The  institution  and  practice  of  law,  like  all  other  institu¬ 
tions,  is  only  in  part  a  reflective  process.  It  has  its  ori¬ 
gins  in  the  most  primitive  and  unconscious  forms  of  hu¬ 
man  behavior  and  social  organization.  Mankind,  in  its 
blind  gropings,  in  the  half-conscious  process  of  feeling  its 
way  out  of  primitive  brutishness,  had  created  unwritten 
laws  and  was  governing  itself  according  to  them  long 
before  it  became  aware  of  the  fact.  Indeed,  so  closely 
inwoven  into  the  fabric  of  social  life  are  these  rules  and 
customs  that  those  who  first  reflected  upon  them  natu¬ 
rally  attributed  them  to  the  Creator  himself  or  to  what¬ 
ever  forces  were  supposed  to  control  human  life  and  des¬ 
tiny.  Even  long  after  it  had  ceased  to  be  intellectually 
fashionable  to  attribute  these  laws  to  the  designing  will 
of  some  superhuman  spirit,  men  still  regarded  them  as 
part  of  the  universal  framework  of  nature,  calling  them 
“laws  of  nature.”  According  to  this  theory  human  so¬ 
ciety  is  supposed  to  be  under  the  government  of  laws 
not  of  its  own  making,  and  therefore  not  of  its  own 
unmaking;  laws  similar  to  the  “natural  laws”  of  which 
the  scientists  speak,  which  are  as  immutable  and  eternal 
as  Nature  herself. 

But  as  knowledge  of  human  history  and  of  human  na¬ 
ture  advanced,  men  became  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
these  laws  are  man-made  and  self-imposed,  that  they 
were  a  long  time  in  forming,  and  that  the  forces  of  habit 


266 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


and  gregariousness  operating  for  the  most  part  uncon¬ 
sciously  had  succeeded  in  moulding  society  into  more  or 
less  stable  patterns,  whose  guiding  principles  could  be 
discovered  and  formulated.  With  this  insight  attained, 
the  imagination  of  man  was  liberated  and  given  con¬ 
structive  power.  Once  man  discovers  that  he  has  been 
blindly  and  unconsciously  shaping  laws  and  customs, 
he  is  enabled  to  proceed  consciously  or  reflectively.  He 
becomes  aware  of  his  own  responsibility  and  undertakes 
the  process  with  foresight.  Thus  the  intelligent  use  and 
control  of  laws  becomes  possible,  and  the  making  and 
practice  of  law  becomes  a  chapter  in  the  social  organiza¬ 
tion  of  reflective  thinking. 

ITS  IMPORTANCE  FOR  REFLECTIVE  LAW 

Though  the  operation  of  legal  codes  is  now  for  the 
most  part  a  highly  organized  system  of  reflective  think¬ 
ing,  it  cannot  be  understood  unless  its  non-reflective  ori¬ 
gins  are  kept  in  mind.  Underlying  the  processes  of  leg¬ 
islation  and  judicial  decision,  which  are  or  ought  to  be 
reflective,  there  are  principles  and  precedents  which 
come  from  nobody  knows  where,  and  there  are  others 
whose  origins  are  known,  but  known  to  be  much  earlier 
than  the  invention  of  modern  systems  of  legislation  and 
jurisprudence.  Conscious  legislation,  in  fact,  would  be 
almost  a  superhuman  task  were  it  not  for  this  great  body 
of  recognized  modes  of  procedure  which  centuries  of  ex¬ 
perience  have  established,  and  which  can  be  reformed 
and  reformulated,  but  cannot  be  abolished.  The  con¬ 
scious  art  of  legislation  never  begins  with  a  clean  slate, 
so  to  speak;  it  cannot  create  a  social  order;  it  can  but 
redirect  a  social  order  already  in  operation.  Intelli¬ 
gence  in  the  legal  sphere,  as  in  all  spheres  of  human  ac- 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


267 


tivity,  is  forced  to  work  with  material  not  of  its  own  mak¬ 
ing;  and  it  is  creative  only  when  it  makes  the  best  of  the 
material  in  hand,  instead  of  wandering  about  in  search 
of  material  more  to  its  liking.  More  specifically  this 
implies  that  the  law,  in  so  far  as  it  is  a  system  of  reflec¬ 
tive  thinking,  is  a  continuous  attempt  to  apply  approved 
and  established  modes  of  conduct  to  new  and  uncertain 
situations  in  such  a  manner  as  to  insure  their  mutual  re¬ 
inforcement.  Reflective  law  must  avoid  both  of  two 
extremes:  if  it  merely  follows  the  established  traditions, 
it  loses  its  value,  for  it  ceases  to  be  reflective;  if  it  ig¬ 
nores  the  established  traditions  and  attempts  to  con¬ 
struct  a  social  order  of  its  own  based  on  “ reason”  alone, 
it  loses  its  applicability,  for  its  orderliness  is  dialectical 
instead  of  social.  Reflective  thinking  in  law  is  chiefly 
concerned  with  finding  the  proper  mean  between  these 
extremes.  Bacon’s  famous  dictum  is  nowhere  so  im¬ 
portant  as  in  law:  “the  wit  and  mind  of  man,  if  it  work 
upon  matter,  .  .  .  worketh  according  to  the  stuff  and  is 
limited  thereby;  but  if  it  work  upon  itself,  as  the  spider 
worketh  his  web,  then  it  is  endless,  and  brings  forth  in¬ 
deed  cobwebs  of  learning,  admirable  for  the  fineness  of 
thread  and  work,  but  of  no  substance  or  profit.”  1 
A  statute  or  a  decision  to  be  effective,  must  be  gener¬ 
ally  consistent  with  traditional  principles:  it  must  con¬ 
form  to  the  general  force  of  custom  and  to  “the  spirit  of 
the  common  law”  sufficiently  to  be  capable  of  assimila¬ 
tion.  The  customary  penalties  and  sanctions,  the  es¬ 
tablished  modes  of  enforcement,  and  the  general  ap¬ 
proval  or  disapproval  of  public  sentiment  are  factors 
which  no  legislator  can  disregard.  Within  certain  lim¬ 
its  these  stabilizing  forces,  often  operating  uncon- 

1  Advancement  of  Learning,  i. 


268 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


sciously,  are  sufficient  to  “make  or  break’ ’  a  law.  Any 
legislation  which  is  content  to  ignore  these  forces,  or 
even  to  scorn  them  as  irrational,  is  certain  to  find  the 
tables  turned:  it  will  find  itself  isolated,  ineffectual,  and 
to  that  extent  irrational.  This  does  not  mean  that  leg¬ 
islation  must  slavishly  follow  custom,  which  would  be 
anything  but  reflective  procedure;  but  it  does  mean  that 
legislation  must  be  willing  to  work  upon  custom,  and  in 
general  conformity  with  established  practices  and  moral 
sentiments,  instead  of  attempting  to  operate  on  an  a 
priori  basis,  be  it  ever  so  “logical.” 

A  second  important  limiting  factor  in  reflective  legis¬ 
lation  is  the  fact  that  legislation,  since  it  is  of  necessity 
general  or  universal,  and  since  it  deals  with  social  facts 
that  are  continually  changing  and  thus  rendering  old 
generalizations  more  or  less  ambiguous,  can  define  its 
object  with  only  a  very  limited  degree  of  accuracy.  If 
each  situation  could  be  dealt  with  on  its  own  merits,  if  it 
were  a  “law  unto  itself,”  legal  thinking  would  be  logi¬ 
cally  simpler  and  might  be  more  intelligent;  but  then  we 
should  not  have  laws .  For  the  whole  purpose  and  es¬ 
sence  of  law  is  to  enable  us  to  deal  with  particular  issues 
as  particular  examples  of  a  general  type  or  class.  In¬ 
telligent  control  would  be  out  of  the  question,  were  it  not 
possible  to  discover  general  types  and  to  deal  with  them 
as  such.  But  such  general  types  can  be  formulated  only 
within  limits.  To  begin  with,  social  institutions  and 
problems  cannot  be  classified  with  mathematical  preci¬ 
sion;  and  even  if  they  could,  they  change  so  continually, 
and,  in  modern  society  especially,  so  radically,  that, 
even  with  the  utmost  care  in  defining  the  scope  of  a  law, 
ambiguities  creep  in  almost  immediately  and  usually 
grow  worse  as  time  passes. 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


269 


And  here  we  come  upon  a  fundamental  difference  be¬ 
tween  the  logic  of  the  natural  and  of  the  moral  sciences. 
The  “ laws’ ’  which  the  natural  scientist  discovers  have 
little  in  common,  save  the  name,  with  laws  in  the  legal 
sense.  A  scientific  “law,”  being  merely  a  descriptive  for¬ 
mula  of  the  behavior  of  natural  ob  j  ects  which  can  be  accu¬ 
rately  and  mathematically  described  and  calculated,  is 
immediately  applicable  as  long  as  these  objects  behave 
as  they  do.  The  “application ”  of  physical  laws  conse¬ 
quently  requires  chiefly  technical  skill  in  working  with 
ready-made  formulae.  But  human  laws  are  seldom 
capable  of  such  accurate  formulation,  nor  are  the  condi¬ 
tions  under  which  they  operate  so  constant.  Natural 
laws  have  no  power  to  govern,  nor  do  they  make  Nature 
more  orderly  than  she  happens  to  be.  But  human  laws, 
in  so  far  as  they  operate  at  all,  actually  do  govern ;  and 
they  govern  not  merely  in  that  they  are  prescriptions  of 
what  men  should  do  rather  than  descriptions  of  what 
they  actually  do,  they  govern  in  the  sense  that  they  be¬ 
come  guiding  principles  for  the  handling  of  new  situa¬ 
tions,  modes  of  controlling  what  would  otherwise  be 
“chaotic”  and  unintelligible.  Indeterminate  cases  are 
determined  by  them;  new  situations  are  “brought 
under”  them.  If  every  situation  had  one  law,  and  that 
obviously  its  law,  the  legal  profession  would  be  more 
like  a  card  index  and  less  like  a  science.  If  in  medicine 
each  symptom  meant  a  definite  disease,  and  each  dis¬ 
ease  had  a  single  cure,  we  might  have  automatic  me¬ 
chanical  physicians.  But  as  it  is,  the  lawyer,  like  the 
physician,  is  forced  to  make  diagnoses,  to  select  proper 
remedies  and  to  use  his  judgment.  It  is  this  problem  of 
discovering  how  law  can  be  applied  to  an  uncertain  case 
that  makes  the  reasoning  of  the  lawyer  both  so  intricate 
and  so  useful. 


270 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Hence  one  of  the  most  serious  problems  for  law  is  the 
problem  of  the  classification  and  definition  of  particulars 
by  means  of  group  concepts.  If  the  concepts  are  too  in¬ 
clusive,  the  law  will  be  applied  where  it  was  not  in¬ 
tended  to  apply,  resulting  in  stupidity  and  injustice;  if 
the  concepts  are  too  exclusive,  the  law  will  be  interpreted 
as  inapplicable  and  consequently  become  ineffectual. 
For  example,  if  all  promises  were  legally  obligatory, 
much  injustice  would  be  done;  if,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
conditions  under  which  contracts  are  legally  obligatory 
are  too  narrowly  drawn,  men  will  avoid  making  con¬ 
tracts,  and  the  law  becomes  ineffectual.  The  law  must 
“draw  the  lines/7  but  to  draw  them  clearly  and  suitably 
is  a  difficult  task.  Many  a  law  is  side-tracked  because, 
if  “construed  strictly/7  it  makes  unfair  discriminations, 
and,  if  “construed  loosely/7  it  includes  too  many  cases 
to  be  enforcible.  Such  dangers  legislators  and  judges 
must  continually  keep  in  mind. 

Section  2 .  The  Legal  “  Act  of  Thought  n 

The  whole  legal  process,  from  the  first  agitation  for  a 
certain  line  of  legislation  or  judicial  decision  to  the  final 
assimilation  or  rejection  of  the  statute  (or  decision,  as 
the  case  may  be)  in  the  established  body  of  the  law  of 
the  land,  is  really  a  single  act  of  reflective  thought, 
though  it  take  several  decades  or  centuries  to  complete 
it.  In  fact,  the  field  of  law  gives  us  one  of  the  best  illus¬ 
trations  of  the  vast  amount  of  social  organization  and 
cooperation  necessary  for  the  carrying  on  of  systematic 
thinking.  Legislatures,  with  their  numerous  commit¬ 
tees,  bureaus  and  boards,  lawyers,  judges,  courts,  detec¬ 
tive  agencies,  investigating  commissions,  to  say  nothing 
of  all  the  associations  for  the  promotion  of  various  types 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


£71 


of  legislation,  are,  or  at  least  ought  to  be,  so  much  social 
machinery  for  reflective  thinking  in  law.  Thinking 
machinery  is  probably  the  most  intricate  machinery 
there  is.  All  we  can  hope  to  do  in  this  chapter  is  to  out¬ 
line  the  chief  steps  in  the  process,  and  then  to  describe  a 
concrete  case  which  illustrates  some  of  the  more  impor¬ 
tant  of  those  steps. 

The  process  falls  into  two  main  divisions:  (1)  the 
making  of  laws,  (2)  their  testing  or  application. 

THE  REFLECTIVE  MAKING  OF  LAWS 

The  two  conditions  discussed  above,  the  power  of  cus¬ 
tom  and  the  need  for  controlling  particular  events  by 
general  rules,  furnish  the  setting  and  fix  the  problem  for 
reflective  legislation.  The  first  raises  the  problem  of 
finding  effective  means  of  enforcing  a  law  —  the  prob¬ 
lem  of  “  sanctions  ” ;  the  second  raises  the  problem  of  de¬ 
fining  the  scope  and  purpose  of  a  law.  The  difference 
between  a  genuinely  reflective  and  a  superficial  making 
of  laws  lies  in  the  amount  of  care  and  thoroughness  with 
which  these  problems  are  faced. 

Hence  the  care  with  which  the  problems  are  analyzed 
and  the  precision  with  which  laws  are  formulated. 
Hence  the  numerous  hearings  before  committees  on 
proposed  bills,  the  submitting  and  resubmitting,  until 
the  scope  of  the  bill  has  been  defined  sufficiently.  The 
various  drafts  of  a  bill  may  be  defined  as  so  many  hypoth¬ 
eses,  each  of  which  has  to  be  tested  until  one  is  finally 
accepted.  When,  after  all  this  analysis  and  experimen¬ 
tation  with  rival  “  hypotheses/’  a  bill  finally  passes  and 
becomes  a  law,  we  are  apt  to  regard  that  as  the  termina¬ 
tion  of  the  reflective  process.  We  regard  the  measure  as 
finally  validated,  verified,  accepted,  and  the  problem  as 


272 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


solved.  In  some  cases  this  is  no  doubt  true.  Some 
laws  are  put  into  practice  readily,  work  smoothly,  no 
questions  are  asked,  and  the  matter  may  be  regarded  as 
“ settled’ ’ ;  and  a  few  others  immediately  pass  into  obliv¬ 
ion,  are  never  applied,  and  become  “  dead  letters.”  But 
in  the  great  majority  of  cases  the  process  of  verification 
merely  begins  with  the  enactment  of  a  law.  The  prob¬ 
lem  merely  “changes  hands ”;  it  passes  out  of  the  juris¬ 
diction  of  the  legislator  and  into  that  of  the  lawyer  and 
judge.  Here  fresh  difficulties  arise,  for  here  the  prac¬ 
tical  testing  begins.  The  lawyers,  not  the  legislators, 
have  the  task  of  applying  the  law,  and  usually  in  the 
course  of  this  task  unforeseen  problems  arise.  The  real 
“making  of  laws”  is  continued  by  the  judge  after  the 
legislator  has  finished  with  them;  and  the  judge’s  deci¬ 
sions  are  subject  to  the  same  dangers  and  difficulties, 
when  they  in  turn  become  law. 

It  might  be  that  reflective  thinking  in  law  would  be 
more  efficient  if  the  process  were  not  so  rudely  inter¬ 
rupted  by  a  change  of  hands.  Much  valuable  experi¬ 
ence  might  be  capitalized  which  is  now  lost,  if,  as  is  the 
case  in  the  common  law,  those  who  make  laws  were  also 
responsible  for  their  application.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the 
fact  is  that  there  is  this  general  division  of  labor  in  legal 
thinking.  The  result  is  that  the  courts,  even  in  addition 
to  the  common  law,  which  is  mostly  court  made,  actu¬ 
ally  “make”  more  law  than  the  legislature.  For,  in 
spite  of  the  painstaking  analysis  of  the  legislators,  or 
more  frequently  because  of  lack  of  it,  the  lawyer  soon 
discovers  ambiguities  in  the  application  of  a  law  or  con¬ 
flicts  between  one  law  and  another  which  call  for  a 
decision.  These  decisions,  which  are  made  by  judges, 
really  are  but  a  further  definition  and  systematization 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


273 


of  laws  whose  meaning  and  application  were  left  am¬ 
biguous  by  the  legislators,  and  they  operate  in  much  the 
same  way  that  the  original  laws  do.  They  form  a  body 
of  ‘ ‘  interpretations  7 7  which  are  used  as  precedents.  If  a 
legal  case  is  seen  to  be  in  one  or  more  respects  identical 
with  a  previous  case,  the  decision  of  the  previous  court 
is  cited  as  precedent.  Law  could,  of  course,  make  little 
progress  if  the  same  problem  had  to  be  argued  afresh 
each  time  it  arose,  instead  of  taking  the  decisions  arrived 
at  as  precedents.  Precedents  may  be  called  in  question 
if  for  any  cause  the  reasoning  which  supports  them  is 
thought  to  be  fallacious ;  but  otherwise  they  are  simply 
accepted  as  authoritative  opinions.  The  only  problem 
which  arises  in  such  situations  is  whether  or  not  the 
present  case  and  the  case  on  which  the  precedent  rests 
are  really  identical;  and  this  is  usually  not  so  easy  to  de¬ 
termine  as  one  might  suppose,  so  that  sometimes  it  hap¬ 
pens  that  the  use  of  precedent  raises  more  problems 
than  it  avoids.  But  on  the  whole,  the  use  of  precedents 
is  not  only  a  convenience,  but  an  absolute  necessity,  for 
it  is  manifestly  impossible  to  argue  the  validity  of  a 
whole  legal  system  every  time  a  legal  case  arises.  In 
any  argument  there  must  be  some  things  taken  for 
granted. 

The  judges,  as  interpreters  of  law,  may  or  may  not 
cooperate  with  the  original  legislators.  They  probably 
have  their  own  ideas  about  what  the  law  should  be,  and 
their  interpretation  of  what  the  law  is  is  consciously  or 
unconsciously  influenced  by  these  ideas.  This  is  espe¬ 
cially  true  when  party  issues  and  tactics  enter  into  the 
situation.  The  consequences  of  the  11  change  of  hands77 
in  legal  thinking  become  most  obvious  in  constitutional 
law;  for  constitutions  are  of  necessity  most  vague  and 


274 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


general,  and  judicial  “ interpretations  ”  of  them  are  con¬ 
sequently  most  vital. 

So  far  we  have  spoken  of  laws  as  originating  in  legisla¬ 
tures  and  as  being  perfected  (or  perverted,  as  the  case 
may  be)  by  the  courts.  But  only  one  half  of  the 
law,  and,  historically  speaking,  the  less  significant  half, 
originates  in  the  legislature.  In  most  countries  courts 
were  in  existence  long  before  legislatures,  and,  even  in 
those  cases  where  they  were  established  simultaneously, 
the  courts  recognize  the  validity  of  a  body  of  procedure 
which  arose  independently  of  the  statute  law  of  the 
land.  This  is  known  as  the  “  common  law.”  Its  sources 
vary  in  different  countries.  In  the  United  States  it 
is  based  largely  on  the  body  of  custom  which  was 
recognized  by  English  courts,  on  precedents  estab¬ 
lished  by  English  courts,  and  to  a  much  lesser  extent 
on  feudal  law,  laws  of  the  Puritan  congregations,  etc. 
Many  of  the  laws  still  in  operation  have  their  origin  in 
the  customs  of  English  merchants  which  came  to  be 
known  as  “the  law  merchant”  and  which  was  bodily 
incorporated  into  the  English  common  law.  Some 
laws  even  go  back  to  a  Roman  household,  or  a  mediaeval 
ecclesiastical  order,  or  the  decisions  of  a  feudal  baron. 
Some  of  the  elements  in  these  sources  are  non-reflective, 
resting  as  they  do  on  mere  custom  or  tradition;  others 
are  just  as  reflective  as  any  statute  of  a  legislature.  But 
whether  they  be  reflective  in  origin  or  not,  they  are  re¬ 
flective  in  their  operation  to-day.  Cases  continually 
arise  which  involve  no  statute  and  which  are  therefore 
decided  on  the  basis  of  the  common  law.  But  the  com¬ 
mon  law,  especially  when  it  rests  on  ancient  procedures, 
is  indefinite  in  its  application,  even  more  so  than  statute 
law,  and  must  be  “interpreted”  and  adapted  to  modem 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


275 


social  conditions.  The  common  law  is  thus  being  con¬ 
tinually  redefined,  clarified,  and  extended.  This  growth 
of  the  common  law,  in  so  far  as  it  is  deliberate,  is  a  proc¬ 
ess  of  lawmaking  coordinate  with  legislation  in  the  nar¬ 
rower  sense.  The  judge  both  makes  and  “applies” 
laws.  This  fact  makes  the  “judicial  process”  and  the 
legal  profession  a  much  more  complicated  affair  than  it 
would  be  if  all  law  were  statute  law,  but,  logically  speak¬ 
ing,  the  reflective  thinking  involved  in  the  making  of  the 
common  law  is  quite  the  same  as  that  involved  in  the 
making  of  statute  law,  so  that  the  analysis  of  legislation 
made  above  is  to  be  understood  as  applying  to  “judge- 
made”  laws  as  well  as  to  the  enactments  of  legislatures. 
We  have  begun  our  analysis  of  the  “  legal  act  of 
thought”  with  the  legislature  rather  than  the  courts  be¬ 
cause  it  is  a  social  instrument  or  institution  devised 
specifically  for  the  purpose  of  reflective  lawmaking, 
whereas  the  lawmaking  function  of  the  courts,  at  least 
of  modern  courts,  is  a  secondary  or  acquired  function,  the 
prime  purpose  of  the  courts  being  to  administer  or  apply 
the  law.  But  legal  theorists  have  been  traditionally 
divided  into  two  groups,  those  who  think  that  all  law 
ought  to  be  statute  law,  in  order  that  legal  practice  may 
be  held  continually  responsible  to  the  particular  social 
facts  and  problems  which  the  legislator  has  in  mind,  and 
those  who  think  that  all  law  ought  to  be  common  law, 
in  order  that  it  may  form  a  consistent  body  of  universal 
rules  of  procedure. 

The  law  with  which  the  lawyer  is  required  to  deal  is 
thus  made  up  of  distinct  systems,  each  of  which  has 
its  own  origins  and  field  of  operations.  We  have  dis¬ 
tinguished  three  such  systems:  (1)  the  common  law, 
(2)  statutes,  (3)  judicial  “interpretations”  of  statutes. 


276 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


which  tend  to  become  incorporated  into  the  common 
law.  With  this  brief  analysis  of  the  making  of  laws,  we 
pass  to  the  second  phase  of  the  legal  “act  of  thought,” 
the  application  or  practical  testing  of  laws;  the  first  is 
the  inductive  phase,  the  formation  of  a  general  rule  to 
meet  the  demands  made  by  certain  particular  situa¬ 
tions  ;  the  second  is  the  deductive  phase,  the  application 
of  this  general  rule  to  other  situations  which  test  its 
validity. 

THE  REFLECTIVE  APPLICATION  OF  THE  LAW 

From  the  foregoing  it  is  evident  that  when  the  lawyer 
and  judge  ask  the  question,  “What  is  the  law  in  this 
case?”  the  answer  is  usually  not  found  by  merely  look¬ 
ing  it  up  in  the  index,  as  it  were;  it  requires  genuine  re¬ 
flective  thinking.  Of  course,  there  are  always  cases 
brought  to  a  lawyer  for  which  “looking  it  up”  in  the 
precedents  suffices.  Where  the  law  is  explicit  and  prec¬ 
edent  unequivocal,  the  solution  of  the  problem  is  com¬ 
paratively  simple  as  in  the  eviction  of  a  tenant  for  non¬ 
payment  of  rent.  In  such  cases  the  lawyer  may  be  re¬ 
garded  as  a  skilled  mechanic  rather  than  as  a  reflective 
thinker:  he  merely  applies  the  legal  machinery  which 
automatically  solves  the  case.  The  practice  of  law  is  in 
such  cases  purely  deductive,  and  the  reasoning  involved 
differs  in  subject-matter  only,  and  not  in  form,  from 
that  involved  in  a  geometrical  demonstration  or  proof. 
This  involves  thinking,  to  be  sure,  but,  as  this  type  of 
thinking  has  been  analyzed  in  previous  chapters,  we 
pass  on  to  more  distinctively  legal  thinking. 

The  distinctively  reflective  side  of  the  legal  profession 
comes  out  in  those  more  important  cases  where  prece¬ 
dents  conflict,  where  terms  are  ambiguous,  where  social 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


277 


facts  have  changed  so  as  to  render  doubtful  the  applica¬ 
bility  of  the  law,  and  in  general  where  the  law  does  not 
automatically  apply  itself.  There  are  four  general 
types  of  problems  which  confront  the  lawyer  as  he  tries 
to  apply  the  law  as  it  is.  The  first  is  the  problem  of  de¬ 
fining  and  clarifying  the  exact  meaning  and  application 
of  the  law.  The  factors  which  underlie  this  problem 
have  been  discussed  above  when  we  were  considering 
some  fundamental  difficulties  in  legal  thinking,  namely, 
the  confused  and  changing  social  facts  which  law  at¬ 
tempts  to  regulate,  the  consequent  difficulties  of  precise 
definition  and  classification,  the  inability  of  legislators 
to  foresee  all  the  ambiguities  which  will  arise  in  the  oper¬ 
ation  of  a  law,  etc.  The  lawyer  avails  himself  of  all  pos¬ 
sible  means  in  meeting  this  problem.  He  first  consults 
authoritative  precedents  for  the  accepted  meanings  of 
terms  and  interpretations  of  laws.  These  may  be  ade¬ 
quate;  but  more  probably  he  is  faced  with  conflicting 
precedents,  in  which  case  he  may  resort  to  experience 
directly  and  try  to  determine  meanings  by  examining 
the  facts  of  the  case  at  hand ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
may  resort  to  some  more  fundamental  authorities  than 
judicial  precedents,  to  moral  principles,  traditional 
usage,  authoritative  legal  writing,  or  the  like. 

A  second  type  of  problem  is  the  need  of  correlating 
and  harmonizing  the  vast  number  of  laws  of  various 
times,  by  various  legislators,  and  under  various  codes. 
Legal  systems,  being  the  products  of  centuries,  have 
various  roots  and  conflicting  tendencies.  These  must 
be  interrelated  and  codified  so  as  to  make  them  as  con¬ 
sistent  as  it  is  possible  to  make  them.  Absolute  con¬ 
sistency  is  here  out  of  the  question,  but  so  is  absolute 
contradiction. 


278 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


A  third  type  of  problem,  closely  allied  to  this,  is  in¬ 
volved  wherever  various  lines  of  interpretation  and  of 
reasoning  are  possible  and  where  choice  must  be  made 
between  them.  Reasons  for  preferring  one  to  another 
must  be  thought  out,  and  methodical  systems  of  inter¬ 
pretation  developed  for  such  cases.  Since  two  or  more 
interpretations  are  logically  possible,  the  reflective  judge 
is  forced  to  choose  between  them  on  the  basis  of  their 
respective  usefulness,  applicability,  conformity  to  cus¬ 
tom,  and  the  precedents  which  they  may  establish  for 
other  decisions.  “  The  law,”  in  short,  is  never  as  simple 
as  the  words  imply. 

One  principle  or  precedent,  pushed  to  the  limit  of  its  logic, 
may  point  to  one  conclusion;  another  principle  or  precedent, 
followed  with  like  logic,  may  point  with  equal  certainty  to 
another.  In  this  conflict  we  must  choose  between  the  two 
paths,  selecting  one  or  the  other,  or  perhaps  striking  out  upon 
a  third,  which  will  be  the  resultant  of  the  two  forces  in  combi¬ 
nation,  or  will  represent  the  mean  between  extremes.  Let  me 
take  as  an  illustration  of  such  conflict  the  famous  case  of 
Riggs  v.  Palmer,  115  N.Y.  506.  That  case  decided  that  a  leg¬ 
atee  who  had  murdered  his  testator  would  not  be  permitted 
by  a  court  of  equity  to  enjoy  the  benefits  of  the  will.  Con¬ 
flicting  principles  were  there  in  competition  for  the  mastery. 
One  of  them  prevailed  and  vanquished  all  others.  There  was 
the  principle  of  the  binding  force  of  a  will  disposing  of  the  es¬ 
tate  of  a  testator  in  conformity  with  law.  That  principle, 
pushed  to  the  limit  of  its  logic,  seemed  to  uphold  the  title  of 
the  murderer.  There  was  the  principle  that  civil  courts  may 
not  add  to  the  pains  and  penalties  of  crimes.  That  pushed  to 
the  limit  of  its  logic  seemed  again  to  uphold  his  title.  But 
over  against  these  was  another  principle,  of  greater  general¬ 
ity,  its  roots  deeply  fastened  in  universal  sentiments  of  jus¬ 
tice,  the  principle  that  no  man  should  profit  from  his  own  ini¬ 
quity  or  take  advantage  of  his  own  wrong.  The  logic  of  this 
principle  prevailed  over  the  logic  of  the  others. . . .  The  judi- 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


279 


cial  process  is  there  in  microcosm.  We  go  forward  with  our 
logic,  with  our  analogies,  with  our  philosophies,  till  we  reach  a 
certain  point.  At  first  we  have  no  trouble  with  the  paths; 
they  follow,  the  same  lines.  Then  they  begin  to  diverge  and 
we  must  make  a  choice  between  them.  History  or  custom  or 
social  utility  or  some  compelling  sentiment  of  justice  or  some¬ 
times  perhaps  a  semi-instinctive  apprehension  of  the  pervad¬ 
ing  spirit  of  our  law,  must  come  to  the  rescue  of  the  anxious 
judge,  and  tell  him  where  to  go.1 

The  fourth  type  of  problem  arises,  not  from  the  laws, 
but  from  the  facts  themselves.  A  lawyer,  especially  in 
criminal  law,  is  often  as  much  concerned  with  the  prob¬ 
lem  of  what  the  facts  are  in  the  case  as  with  what  the  law 
is  in  the  case.  This  introduces  us  to  a  whole  new  set  of 
legal  intellectual  machinery:  the  jury,  the  witnesses, 
evidence,  cross-examination,  the  analysis  of  motives, 
the  question  of  sanity  of  the  criminal,  etc.  The  proc¬ 
esses  are  quite  familiar,  and  will  be  seen  to  be  instru¬ 
ments  of  observation  and  analysis  of  facts  —  a  topic 
discussed  in  previous  chapters.  The  more  highly  these 
instruments  are  developed  and  the  more  extensively 
they  are  utilized,  the  more  reflective  the  thinking  be¬ 
comes,  and  the  more  adequately  and  justly  can  the  law 
be  applied. 

SUMMARY  OF  THE  ANALYSIS  OF  LEGAL  THINKING 

This  bare  outline  of  legal  thinking  may  suffice  to  in¬ 
dicate  the  essential  traits  of  the  process;  the  illustration 
which  follows  is  intended  to  exhibit  the  same  process  in 

1  Benj.  N.  Cardozo,  The  Nature  of  the  Judicial  Process ,  pp.  40-43.  A 
very  clear  and  interesting  case  of  two  equally  valid  interpretations,  in 
which  thflt  one  happened  to  be  chosen  by  the  courts  which  later  led  to 
many  difficulties  —  difficulties  which  the  other  would  have  avoided  — 
is  described  in  an  article  by  Dean  Harlan  F.  Stone,  Columbia  Law  Re - 
view,  June,  1922. 


£80 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


concrete  form.  If  this  process  is  concerned  well,  it  avails 
itself  of  all  the  instruments  of  reflective  thinking  which 
other  sciences  employ.  By  careful  observation,  testing 
of  evidence,  and  experimental  investigation,  it  seeks  to 
discover  the  facts,  as  any  natural  science  does,  by  pre¬ 
cise  definition  and  classification,  it  seeks  to  build  up  a 
unified  system  of  concepts,  as  any  dialectical  science 
does;  and  by  the  clarification  of  human  ends  and  ideals, 
it  passes  judgment  on  human  conduct,  as  any  moral 
science  does.  Legal  thinking  is  thus  seen  to  be  charac¬ 
terized,  not  so  much  by  peculiar  methods  of  thought,  as 
by  its  complex  subject-matter . 

Section  3 .  A  Case  of  Reflective  Thinking  in  Law 

Analyzed 

To  give  concrete  meaning  to  these  theoretical  consid¬ 
erations,  we  shall  describe  a  typical  legal  case  —  typical 
in  so  far  as  any  case  can  be  typical  of  certain  fundamen¬ 
tals  in  legal  thinking;  it  is  not  technically  typical  of  all 
cases,  for,  being  a  case  in  constitutional  law,  it  is  not  typ¬ 
ical  for  criminal  law,  equity,  and  other  branches  of  the 
law.  It  concerns  the  problem  of  regulating  the  hours  of 
labor  for  women. 

We  are  really  not  starting  at  the  beginning  of  the 
problem  if  we  assume  that  it  exists  ready-made  and 
well  defined  for  the  legislators.  For  whom  does  the 
problem  exist?  Who  raises  it?  How  is  it  raised?  Or¬ 
dinarily  we  say  the  problem  originates  in  “public  opin¬ 
ion/7  and  that  public  opinion  directs  the  legislator’s  at¬ 
tention  to  it.  This  may  be  the  case,  but  more  usually 
the  problem  is  raised  by  interested  groups  or  associa¬ 
tions.  The  groups  undertake  investigations,  publicity 
campaigns,  and  propaganda.  If  these  are  successful, 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


281 


“ public  opinion”  may  be  aroused,  and  finally  the  legis¬ 
lature  may  take  cognizance  of  the  problem.  If  these 
groups  are  “ influential”  (e.g.,  a  newspaper,  or  “Wall 
Street”),  they  may  succeed  in  getting  the  attention  of 
the  legislature  long  before  the  general  public  is  aware  of 
it,  and,  indeed,  if  the  problem  is  technical  and  of  only 
limited  interest  it  may  be  legislated  upon  without  ever 
becoming  a  matter  of  “public  opinion.”  But  in  any  case 
the  activities  of  certain  interested  groups  are  necessary 
to  bring  the  problem  to  the  consciousness  of  the  legis¬ 
lator.  In  fact,  so  great  is  the  noise  of  those  who  are 
whispering  in  the  ear  of  the  legislator,  that  only  the 
persistent  presentation  of  the  problem,  and  its  increasing 
acuteness,  may  expect  to  draw  the  attention  of  the  over¬ 
burdened  law  maker. 

In  our  particular  case,  it  might  be  supposed  that  the 
women  who  toiled  overlong  under  unhealthful  and  in¬ 
human  conditions  were  first  to  demand  legislation. 
Not  so.  Indeed,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  most  of 
them  had  any  further  thought  than  making  the  best  of  a 
hard  life.  But  certain  organizations,  following  the  lead 
of  others  in  Europe,  and  of  International  Associations 
for  Labor  Legislation,  began  agitating  the  regulation  of 
working  hours  for  women.  Among  the  societies  aiding 
this  movement  were  the  National  Consumers’  League, 
the  Russell  Sage  Foundation,  Women’s  Rights  Party, 
United  States  Industrial  Commission,  United  States 
Bureau  of  Labor,  various  labor  unions,  and  similar  bod¬ 
ies.  Some  of  these  were  Government  institutions,  but 
most  of  them,  certainly  the  earliest  of  them,  were  pri¬ 
vate  enterprises.  The  societies  either  directly  employed 
or  recei  ved  the  cooperation  of  numerous  scientists,  phy¬ 
sicians,  economists,  etc.  \ 


282 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


After  years  of  investigation  and  propaganda  carried 
on  by  these  groups,  several  State  Legislatures  finally 
passed  laws  attempting  some  sort  of  regulation.  To 
confine  our  attention  to  one  of  these,  let  us  see  what 
happened  to  such  a  law  passed  by  the  State  Legislature 
of  Illinois,  June  17, 1893.  The  law  is  entitled  “  An  act  to 
regulate  the  manufacture  of  clothing,  wearing  apparel, 
and  other  articles  in  the  State,  and  to  provide  for  the  ap¬ 
pointment  of  State  inspectors  to  enforce  same,  and  to 
make  an  appropriation  therefor.”  Among  other  things 
it  provided  that  “No  female  shall  be  employed  in  any 
factory  or  workshop  more  than  eight  hours  in  any  one 
day  or  forty-eight  hours  in  any  one  week.” 

On  a  certain  day  of  February,  1894,  a  Mr.  Ritchie 
was  arrested  on  the  charge  of  employing  a  woman  more 
than  eight  hours  a  day.  He  waived  jury  trial,  and, 
upon  being  fined  five  dollars  by  the  Justice  of  the  Peace, 
appealed  to  the  Criminal  Court  of  Cook  County,  where 
a  similar  procedure  took  place.  From  this  court  he  ap¬ 
pealed  by  “writ  of  error”  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  Illi¬ 
nois.  Obviously  the  question  at  issue  was  not  whether 
this  man  was  guilty  under  the  law,  for  his  guilt  was  ad¬ 
mitted;  the  question  was  whether  the  law  itself  was  “in 
error,”  or  whether  it  was  consistent  with  the  constitu¬ 
tion  of  the  State  of  Illinois.  The  ruling  of  the  court  was 
that  the  statute  was  inconsistent  with  the  principles  laid 
down  in  the  constitution,  and  consequently  the  judg¬ 
ment  of  the  Criminal  Court  of  Cook  County  was  re¬ 
versed  and  the  case  was  remanded  to  that  court  with  di¬ 
rections  to  dismiss  the  prosecution.  The  significance  of 
the  case  was,  of  course,  not  that  Mr.  Ritchie  escaped  the 
five  dollars  fine,  but  that  it  was  henceforth  useless  to 
arrest  similar  offenders  against  that  act,  and  thus  the 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


283 


whole  act  was  rendered  void  and  ineffective,  and  the  will 
of  the  legislators,  and  of  the  groups  immediately  re¬ 
sponsible  for  the  legislation,  was  frustrated. 

Now  let  us  return  to  our  case,  to  analyze  the  reason¬ 
ing  involved.  The  following  extracts  are  taken  from 
the  opinion  of  the  court,  as  delivered  by  Mr.  Justice 
Magruder,  and  are  arranged  under  topical  headings  to 
suggest  the  structure  of  the  argument:  1 

(1)  The  location  of  the  main  points  at  issue:  (a) 
right  of  contract,  ( b )  police  power: 

The  main  objection  urged  against  the  Act,  and  that  to 
which  the  discussion  of  counsel  on  both  sides  is  chiefly  di¬ 
rected,  related  to  the  validity  of  section  5.  It  is  contended  by 
counsel  for  plaintiff  in  error,  that  that  section  is  unconstitu¬ 
tional  as  imposing  unwarranted  restrictions  upon  the  right  to 
contract.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  claimed  by  counsel  for 
The  People,  that  the  act  is  a  sanitary  provision  and  justifiable 
as  an  exercise  of  the  police  power  of  the  State. 

(2)  The  precise  definition  of  terms  involved  in  the 
first  point:  (a)  “ right  to  contract  ”  and  “  employment.” 

Does  the  provision  in  question  restrict  the  right  to  con¬ 
tract?  The  words,  “no  female  shall  be  employed,”  import  ac¬ 
tion  on  the  part  of  two  persons.  There  must  be  a  person  who 
does  the  act  of  employing,  and  a  person  who  consents  to  the 
act  of  being  employed.  Webster  defines  employment  as  not 
only  “the  act  of  employing,”  but  “also  the  state  of  being 
employed.”  The  prohibition  of  the  statute  is,  therefore,  two¬ 
fold,  first,  that  no  manufacturer  or  proprietor  of  a  factory  or 
workshop  shall  employ  any  female  therein  more  than  eight 
hours  in  one  day,  and,  second,  that  no  female  shall  consent  to 
be  so  employed.  It  thus  prohibits  employer  and  employee 
from  uniting  their  minds,  or  agreeing  upon  any  longer  service 
during  one  day  than  eight  hours.  In  other  words,  they  are 
prohibited,  the  one  from  contracting  to  employ,  and  the  other 

i  Ritchie  v.  The  People,  155  HI.  101-17. 


284  REFLECTIVE  THINKING  * 

from  contracting  to  be  employed,  otherwise  than  as  directed. 
“To  be  employed  in  anything  means  not  only  the  act  of  doing 
it,  but  also  to  be  engaged  to  do  it ;  to  be  under  contract  or  or¬ 
ders  to  do  it.”  (United  States  v.  Morris,  14  Pet.  464.)  Hence 
a  direction  that  a  person  shall  not  be  employed  more  than  a 
specified  number  of  hours  in  one  day,  is  at  the  same  time  a  di¬ 
rection  that  such  person  shall  not  be  under  contract  to  work 
for  more  than  a  specified  number  of  hours  in  one  day.  It  fol¬ 
lows  that  section  5  does  limit  and  restrict  the  right  of  the 
manufacturer  and  his  employee  to  contract  with  each  other  in 
reference  to  the  hours  of  labor. 

(6)  “  Liberty  and  property  rights.” 

Is  the  restriction  thus  imposed  an  infringement  upon  ;the 
constitutional  rights  of  the  manufacturer  and  the  employee? 
Section  2  of  article  2  of  the  constitution  of  Illinois  provides 
that  “no  person  shall  be  deprived  of  life,  liberty  or  property, 
without  due  process  of  law.”  A  number  of  cases  have  arisen 
within  recent  years  in  which  the  courts  have  had  occasion  to 
consider  this  provision,  or  one  similar  to  it,  and  its  meaning 
has  been  quite  clearly  defined.  The  privilege  of  contracting 
is  both  a  liberty  and  a  property  right.  (Frorer  v.  The  Peo¬ 
ple,  141  Ill.  171.)  Liberty  includes  the  right  to  acquire  prop¬ 
erty,  and  that  means  and  includes  the  right  to  make  and  en¬ 
force  contracts.  (The  State  v.  Loomis,  115  Mo.  307.)  The 
right  to  use,  buy  and  sell  property  and  contract  in  respect 
thereto  is  protected  by  the  constitution.  Labor  is  property, 
and  the  laborer  has  the  same  right  to  sell  his  labor  and  to  con¬ 
tract  with  reference  thereto,  as  has  any  other  property  owner. 
In  this  country  the  legislature  has  no  power  to  present  per¬ 
sons  who  are  sui  juris  from  making  their  own  contracts, 
nor  can  it  interfere  with  the  freedom  of  contract  between 
the  workman  and  the  employer.  The  right  to  labor  or  employ 
labor,  and  make  contracts  in  respect  thereto  upon  such  terms 
as  may  be  agreed  upon  between  the  parties,  is  included  in 
the  constitutional  guaranty  above  quoted.  (State  v.  Good¬ 
will,  33  W.  Va.  179;  Godcharles  v.  Wigeman,  113  Pa.  St.  431; 
Braceville  Coal  Co.  v.  The  People,  147  Ill.  66.)  The  protec¬ 
tion  of  property  is  one  of  the  objects  for  which  free  govern- 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


285 


ments  are  instituted  among  men.  (Const,  of  Ill.  art.  2,  sec.  1.) 
The  right  to  acquire,  possess,  and  protect  property  includes 
the  right  to  make  reasonable  contracts.  (Commonwealth  v. 
Perry,  155  Mass.  117.)  And  when  an  owner  is  deprived  of 
one  of  the  attributes  of  property,  like  the  right  to  make  con¬ 
tracts,  he  is  deprived  of  his  property  within  the  meaning  of  the 
constitution.  (Matter  of  Application  of  Jacobs,  98  N.Y.  98.) 
The  fundamental  rights  of  Englishmen,  brought  to  this  coun¬ 
try  by  its  original  settlers  and  wrested  from  time  to  time  in 
the  progress  of  history  from  the  sovereigns  of  the  English  na¬ 
tion,  have  been  reduced  by  Blackstone  to  three  principal  or 
primary  articles:  “the  right  of  personal  security,  and  the 
right  of  personal  liberty,  and  the  right  of  private  property.” 
(1  Blacks.  Com.  marg.  page  129.)  The  right  to  contract  is 
the  only  way  by  which  a  person  can  rightfully  acquire  prop¬ 
erty  by  his  own  labor.  “  Of  all  the  ‘  rights  of  persons’  it  is  the 
most  essential  to  human  happiness.”  (Leep  v.  St.  L.,  I.  M. 
&  S.  Ry.  Co.  58  Ark.  407.) 

(3)  Partial  conclusion:  Right  of  contract  being  a  right 
of  liberty  and  property,  is  guaranteed  by  the  constitu¬ 
tion,  subject  to  limitations  which  must  be  defined,  viz.: 
(a)  “due  process  of  law.” 

This  right  to  contract,  which  is  thus  included  in  the  funda¬ 
mental  rights  of  liberty  and  property,  cannot  be  taken  away 
“without  due  process  of  law.”  The  words  “due  process  of 
law”  have  been  held  to  be  synonymous  with  the  words  “law 
of  the  land.”  (The  State  v.  Loomis,  supra ;  Frorer  v.  The 
People,  supra.)  .  .  .  The  “law  of  the  land  ”  is  “general  public 
law  binding  upon  all  the  members  of  the  community,  under  all 
circumstances,  and  not  partial  or  private  laws,  affecting  the 
rights  of  private  individuals  or  classes  of  individuals.”  (Mil- 
lett  v.  The  People,  117  Ill.  294.)  The  “law  of  the  land”  is 
the  opposite  of  “arbitrary,  unequal  and  partial  legislation.” 
(The  State  v.  Loomis,  supra.)  The  legislature  has  no  right  to 
deprive  one  class  of  persons  of  privileges  allowed  to  other  per¬ 
sons  under  like  conditions.  The  man,  who  is  forbidden  to  ac¬ 
quire  and  enjoy  property  in  the  same  manner  in  which  the 


286 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


rest  of  the  community  is  permitted  to  acquire  and  enjoy  it,  is 
deprived  of  liberty  in  particulars  of  primary  importance  to  his 
pursuit  of  happiness.  If  one  man  is  denied  the  right  to  con¬ 
tract  as  he  has  hitherto  done  under  the  law,  and  as  others  are 
still  allowed  to  do  by  the  law,  he  is  deprived  of  both  liberty 
and  property  to  the  extent  to  which  he  is  thus  deprived  of 
such  right.  .  .  . 

(b)  “ Reasonable”  vs.  “arbitrary”  limitations. 

We  are  not  unmindful  that  the  right  to  contract  may  be  sub¬ 
ject  to  limitations  growing  out  of  the  duties  which  the  indi¬ 
vidual  owes  to  society,  to  the  public,  or  to  the  government. 
These  limitations  are  sometimes  imposed  by  the  obligation  to 
so  use  one’s  own  as  not  to  injure  another,  by  the  character  of 
property  as  affected  with  a  public  interest  or  devoted  to  a 
public  use,  by  the  demands  of  public  policy  or  the  necessity 
of  protecting  the  public  from  fraud  or  injury,  by  the  want  of 
capacity,  by  the  needs  of  the  necessitous  borrower  as  against 
the  demands  of  the  extortionate  lender.  But  the  power  of 
the  legislature  to  thus  limit  the  right  to  contract  must  rest 
upon  some  reasonable  basis,  and  cannot  be  arbitrarily  exer¬ 
cised.  It  has  been  said  that  such  power  is  based  in  every 
case  on  some  condition,  and  not  on  the  absolute  right  to  con¬ 
trol.  Where  legislative  enactments,  which  operate  upon 
classes  of  individuals  only,  have  been  held  to  be  valid,  it  has 
been  where  the  classification  was  reasonable,  and  not  arbi¬ 
trary.  (Leep  v.  St.L.,  I.M.  &  S.  Ry.  Co.  supra;  The  State  v. 
Loomis,  supra.) 

(4)  Conclusion :  the  enactment  is  void,  because  limita¬ 
tion  of  right  of  contract  would  be  arbitrary. 

Applying  these  principles  to  the  consideration  of  section  5, 
we  are  led  irresistibly  to  the  conclusion,  that  it  is  an  unconsti¬ 
tutional  and  void  enactment.  .  .  .  We  are  inclined  to  regard 
the  act  as  one  that  is  partial  and  discriminating  in  its  charac¬ 
ter.  If  it  be  construed  as  applying  only  to  manufacturers  of 
clothing,  wearing  apparel  and  articles  of  a  similar  nature, 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


28? 


we  can  see  no  reasonable  ground  for  prohibiting  such  manu¬ 
facturers  and  their  employees  from  contracting  for  more  than 
eight  hours  of  work  in  one  day,  while  other  manufacturers  and 
their  employees  are  not  forbidden  so  to  contract.  If  the  act  be 
construed  as  applying  to  manufacturers  of  all  kinds  of  prod¬ 
ucts,  there  is  no  good  reason  why  the  prohibition  should  be 
directed  against  manufacturers  and  their  employees,  and  not 
against  merchants,  or  builders,  or  contractors,  or  carriers,  or 
farmers,  or  persons  engaged  in  other  branches  of  industry, 
and  their  employees  therein.  Women  employed  by  manu¬ 
facturers  are  forbidden  by  section  5  to  make  contracts  to  laboi* 
longer  than  eight  hours  in  a  day,  while  women  employed  as 
saleswomen  in  stores,  or  as  domestic  servants,  or  as  book¬ 
keepers,  or  stenographers,  or  type-writers,  or  in  laundries,  or 
other  occupations  not  embraced  under  the  head  of  manufac¬ 
turing,  are  at  liberty  to  contract  for  as  many  hours  of  labor 
in  a  day  as  they  choose.  The  manner  in  which  the  section 
thus  discriminates  against  one  class  of  employees  and  employ¬ 
ers  and  in  favor  of  all  others,  places  it  in  opposition  to  the 
constitutional  guarantees  hereinbefore  discussed,  and  so  ren¬ 
ders  it  invalid.  Section  1  of  article  2  of  the  constitution  of  Illi¬ 
nois  provides  as  follows:  “  All  men  are  by  nature  free  and  in¬ 
dependent,  and  have  certain  inherent  and  inalienable  rights; 
among  these  are  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness. 
To  secure  these  rights  and  the  protection  of  property,  govern¬ 
ments  are  instituted  among  men,  deriving  their  just  powers 
from  the  consent  of  the  governed.”  Liberty,  as  has  already 
been  stated,  included  the  right  to  make  contracts,  as  well  with 
reference  to  the  amount  and  duration  of  labor  to  be  per¬ 
formed,  as  concerning  any  other  lawful  matter.  Hence,  the 
right  to  make  contracts  is  an  inherent  and  inalienable  one,  and 
any  attempt  to  unreasonably  abridge  it  is  opposed  to  the 
constitution.  As  was  aptly  said  in  Leep  v.  St.L.,  I.M.  &  S. 
Ry.  Co.  supra :  “  Where  the  subject  of  contract  is  purely  and 
exclusively  private,  unaffected  by  any  public  interest  or  duty 
to  person,  to  society  or  government,  and  the  parties  are  capa¬ 
ble  of  contracting,  there  is  a  condition  existing  upon  which 
the  legislature  cannot  interfere  for  the  purpose  of  prohibiting 
the  contract,  or  controlling  the  terms  thereof.” 


288 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


(5)  Analysis  of  the  second  main  point:  “ police 
power.”  (a)  scope  of  “  police  power.” 

. . .  But  it  is  claimed  on  behalf  of  defendant  in  error,  that  this 
section  can  be  sustained  as  an  exercise  of  the  police  power  of 
the  State.  The  police  power  of  the  State  is  that  power  which 
enables  it  to  promote  the  health,  comfort,  safety  and  welfare 
of  society.  It  is  very  broad  and  far-reaching,  but  is  not  with¬ 
out  its  limitations.  Legislative  acts  passed  in  pursuance  of  it 
must  not  be  in  conflict  with  the  constitution,  and  must  have 
some  relation  to  the  ends  sought  to  be  accomplished;  that  is 
to  say,  to  the  comfort,  welfare  or  safety  of  society.  Where 
the  ostensible  object  of  an  enactment  is  to  secure  the  public 
comfort,  welfare  or  safety,  it  must  appear  to  be  adapted  to 
that  end;  it  cannot  invade  the  rights  of  person  and  property 
under  the  guise  of  a  mere  police  regulation,  when  it  is  not  such 
in  fact;  and  where  such  an  act  takes  away  the  property  of  a 
citizen  or  interferes  with  his  personal  liberty,  it  is  the  prov¬ 
ince  of  the  courts  to  determine  whether  it  is  really  an  appro¬ 
priate  measure  for  the  promotion  of  the  comfort,  safety  and 
welfare  of  society. ... 

( b )  This  act  not  a  public  sanitary  measure. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  title  of  the  act  of  1893  to  indicate 
that  it  is  a  sanitary  measure.  The  first  three  sections  contain 
provisions  for  keeping  workshops  in  a  cleanly  state  and  for  in¬ 
spection  to  ascertain  whether  they  are  so  kept.  But  there  is 
nothing  in  the  nature  of  the  employment  contemplated  by  the 
act  which  is  in  itself  unhealthy,  or  unlawful,  or  injurious  to 
the  public  morals  or  welfare.  Laws  restraining  the  sale  and 
use  of  opium  and  intoxicating  liquor  have  been  sustained  as 
valid  under  the  police  power.  (Ah  Lim  v.  Territory,  1  Wash. 
156;  Mugler  v.  Kansas,  123  U.S.  623.)  Undoubtedly,  the 
public  health,  welfare  and  safety  may  be  endangered  by  the 
general  use  of  opium  and  intoxicating  drinks.  But  it  cannot 
be  said  that  the  same  consequences  are  likely  to  flow  from  the 
manufacture  of  clothing,  wearing  apparel  and  other  similar 
articles.  .  .  . 

It  is  not  the  nature  of  the  things  done,  but  the  sex  of  the 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


289 


persons  doing  them,  which  is  made  the  basis  of  the  claim  that 
the  act  is  a  measure  for  the  promotion  of  the  public  health. 
It  is  sought  to  sustain  the  act  as  an  exercise  of  the  police 
power  upon  the  alleged  ground,  that  it  is  designed  to  protect 
woman  on  account  of  her  sex  and  physique.  It  will  not  be 
denied  that  woman  is  entitled  to  the  same  rights  under  the 
constitution,  to  make  contracts  with  reference  to  her  labor  as 
are  secured  thereby  to  men.  The  first  section  of  the  four¬ 
teenth  amendment  to  the  constitution  of  the  United  States 
provides:  “No  State  shall  make  or  enforce  any  law  which 
shall  abridge  the  privileges  or  immunities  of  citizens  of  the 
United  States,  nor  shall  any  State  deprive  any  person  of  life, 
liberty,  or  property  without  due  process  of  law,  nor  deny  to 
any  person  within  its  jurisdiction  the  equal  protection  of  the 
law.”  It  has  been  held  that  a  woman  is  both  a  “  citizen  ”  and 
a  “person”  within  the  meaning  of  this  section.  .  .  . 

. .  .  The  question  is  not  whether  a  particular  employment 
is  a  proper  one  for  the  use  of  female  labor,  but  the  question  is 
whether,  in  an  employment  which  is  conceded  to  be  lawful 
in  itself  and  suitable  for  women  to  engage  in,  she  shall  be 
deprived  of  the  right  to  determine  for  herself  how  many 
hours  she  can  and  may  work  during  each  day.  There  is  no 
reasonable  ground  —  at  least  none  which  has  been  made  man¬ 
ifest  to  us  in  the  arguments  of  counsel  —  for  fixing  upon  eight 
hours  in  one  day  as  the  limit  within  which  woman  can  work 
without  injury  to  her  physique,  and  beyond  which,  if  she 
work,  injury  will  necessarily  follow.  But  the  police  power  of 
the  State  can  only  be  permitted  to  limit  or  abridge  such  a 
fundamental  right  as  the  right  to  make  contracts,  when  the 
exercise  of  such  power  is  necessary  to  promote  the  health, 
comfort,  welfare  or  safety  of  society  or  the  public;  and  it  is 
questionable  whether  it  can  be  exercised  to  prevent  injury  to 
the  individual  engaged  in  a  particular  calling.  . . . 

(6)  Conclusion :  the  enactment  is  void,  for  there  is  no 
proof  that  it  is  a  “ police”  measure;  i.e.,  necessary  to 
promote  public  health,  comfort,  welfare  or  safety. 

. .  .  When  a  health  law  is  challenged  in  the  courts  as  uncon- 


290 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


stitutional  on  the  ground  that  it  arbitrarily  interferes  with 
personal  liberty  and  private  property  without  due  process  of 
law,  the  courts  must  be  able  to  see  that  it  has  at  least  in  fact 
some  relation  to  the  public  health,  that  the  public  health  is 
the  end  actually  aimed  at,  and  that  it  is  appropriate  and 
adapted  to  that  end.  This  we  have  not  been  able  to  see  in 
this  law,  and  we  must,  therefore,  pronounce  it  unconstitu¬ 
tional  and  void. 

On  the  face  of  it  this  argument  seems  to  have  the  fol¬ 
lowing  characteristics:  (1)  Certain  rights  are  guaranteed 
by  the  constitution  to  the  citizens  of  the  State.  Such 
rights  are  liberty,  the  right  of  property,  the  right  of  con¬ 
tract,  right  against  “ partial  and  discriminating”  legis¬ 
lation.  Also  certain  powers  are  granted  to  the  gov¬ 
ernment  as  the  police  power.  (2)  All  that  the  court 
attempts  to  do  is  to  determine  whether  a  particular  act 
violates  these  rights  or  exceeds  these  powers.  (3)  The 
legitimate  interpretation  of  debatable  terms  is  largely 
determined  by  precedent  or  authority;  i.e.,  by  previous 
judgments  of  the  courts  or  by  recognized  writers  on  the 
law  (e.g.,  Blackstone).  (4)  The  authority  of  the  consti¬ 
tution  and  of  precedent  being  unquestioned,  the  validity 
of  a  law  can  be  definitely  determined  by  formal  reason¬ 
ing,  without  a  study  of  the  empirical  conditions  and  con¬ 
sequences  at  issue. 

But  on  closer  inspection  this  logical  simplicity  van¬ 
ishes.  In  the  first  place,  when  we  ask  for  definitions 
of  liberty,  right  of  property,  right  of  contract,  police 
power,  etc.,  we  find  no  general  agreement.  Precedents 
can  be  found  on  either  side  of  the  question.  Even  so 
apparently  definite  words  as  “to  be  employed”  offer 
difficulties  in  definition.  Does  employment  imply  con¬ 
tract?  If  so,  does  the  “privilege  of  contracting”  involve 
liberty  and  property  rights?  When  the  exercise  of  the 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


m 


police  power  conflicts  with  rights  of  contract  and  prop¬ 
erty,  which  shall  take  precedence?  If  these  rights  nan 
be  limited  by  legislation,  what  is  “ reasonable”  and 
what  is  “arbitrary”  limitation  of  these  rights?  How 
may  these  questions  be  answered?  The  judge  is  sup¬ 
posed  to  answer  them  by  examining  the  meaning  of  the 
constitution.  Theoretically  he  is  supposed  to  “inter¬ 
pret”  the  intention  which  the  framers  of  the  constitu¬ 
tion  had  in  employing  those  terms.  But  practically 
that  is  impossible,  since  the  framers  of  the  constitution 
probably  had  as  varied  “intentions”  as  legislators  have 
to-day.  Whatever  their  intentions  may  have  been, 
most  of  them  are  impossible  to  discover,  since  no  ade¬ 
quate  account  was  left  by  the  framers  of  the  constitu¬ 
tion.  Even  if  we  had  an  authoritative  version  of  their 
intentions,  present  conditions  are  so  different  from  con¬ 
ditions  at  that  time  that  they  would  have  to  be  “inter¬ 
preted”  in  the  light  of  the  present  conditions. 

To  fall  back  on  the  precedents  of  the  courts  is  only  a 
specious  solution  to  these  problems.  For,  in  the  first 
place,  precedents  can  usually  be  found  to  support  either 
side  of  a  case.  Theoretically,  too,  to  fall  back  on  prece¬ 
dent  is  futile,  for  on  what  basis  does  the  authority  of  the 
precedent  rest?  If  the  judgment  takes  its  authority 
from  the  constitution,  it  is  subject  to  most  of  the  limita¬ 
tions  of  constitutional  authority,  which  have  just  been 
pointed  out.  If  it  rests  upon  the  judgment’s  “reason¬ 
ableness”  with  respect  to  the  case  which  it  judges,  the 
whole  basis  of  authority  is  shifted  from  given  principles 
to  particular  facts.  The  validity  of  any  judgment, 
then,  rests  upon  its  adequacy  in  view  of  the  facts  of  the 
case,  precedent  or  no  precedent.  Add  to  these  criti¬ 
cisms  the  fact  that  departure  from  precedent  is  itself 


292 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


sufficiently  justified  by  precedent,  and  there  seems  to  be 
little  left  in  practice  of  the  authoritative  principle  upon 
which  constitutional  law  theoretically  rests. 

The  dialectical  or  deductive  form  of  law,  therefore, 
conceals  beneath  its  formal  simplicity  a  vast  amount  of 
empirical  thinking  which  is  necessary  to  define  the  terms 
of  the  argument.  In  this  case  such  terms  as  employ¬ 
ment,  health,  comfort,  public  welfare,  etc.,  needed  to  be 
empirically  defined,  and  upon  the  meaning  assigned 
by  empirical  considerations  to  them  really  rested  the 
outcome  of  the  case.  It  is  possible  to  argue  that  an 
eight-hour  law  for  women  is  a  violation  of  the  right  of 
contract;  the  right  of  contract  is  a  property  right;  a 
property  right  is  guaranteed  to  the  citizen  by  the  con¬ 
stitution  ;  whatever  is  inconsistent  with  the  constitution 
is  void ;  therefore  ,  the  law  is  void.  Although  this  looks 
like  a  perfect  mathematical  demonstration,  it  has  the 
certainty  of  such  a  demonstration  merely  in  form.  Its 
certainty  rests  upon  the  precision  of  definition  of  its 
terms.  What  would  happen  to  mathematics  if  a  tri¬ 
angle  were  as  difficult  to  define  as  the  right  of  liberty? 
What  would  happen  to  physics,  if  horse-power  were  as 
vague  a  term  as  police  power?  No  calculations  could  be 
made  on  the  basis  of  such  a  terminology.  A  vague  idea 
is  not  clarified  by  giving  it  a  name.  Consequently  legal 
science  may  develop  a  complicated  system  of  legal  ideas, 
each  consistent  with  the  other,  and  the  whole  based 
upon  constitutional  principles,  but  this  formal  consist¬ 
ency  will  have  only  as  much  logical  force  as  the  ideas 
employed  have  precision  of  meaning. 

Social  and  moral  sciences,  in  general,  have  this  disad¬ 
vantage  when  compared  with  the  mathematical  and 
physical  sciences.  Mathematics  is  precise  and  certain, 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


293 


as  we  have  seen,  because  it  can  deal  with  purely  ideal 
symbols  which  are  capable  of  absolute  definition. 
Whether  actual  circles  are  really  round  or  not  makes  lit¬ 
tle  difference  to  it,  for  it  deals  only  with  ideal  circles, 
which  by  definition  are  perfect.  Physical  sciences  are, 
to  be  sure,  engaged  in  the  study  of  physical  facts,  but 
they  deal  with  them  in  terms  of  quantitative  measures 
which  allow  a  very  great  precision.  The  science  of  law 
has  neither  of  these  advantages.  It  can  deal  neither 
with  purely  ideal  data,  nor  with  physical  facts  which 
admit  of  precise,  quantitative  measurement.  It  must 
deal  with  physical  facts,  and  it  must  deal  with  their 
least  definable  qualities.  Human  wants  and  social 
needs  are  vague,  fluctuating  things.  They  would  be  dif¬ 
ficult  enough  to  define  even  in  a  static  society.  In  a 
social  environment  which  is  continually  and  radically 
changing,  these  wants  and  needs  are  continually  assum¬ 
ing  new  forms.  The  process  of  defining  them  must,  there¬ 
fore,  likewise  be  continuous,  reconstructive,  and  experi¬ 
mental.  The  definition  of  a  circle,  or  a  volt,  is  an  en¬ 
tirely  different  process  from  the  definition  of  the  rights 
of  a  citizen.  Nevertheless,  the  rights  of  a  citizen  need 
defining,  and  where  the  legislator  fails  to  do  so,  the 
judge  must  do  it. 

To  return  to  our  case:  the  main  argument  of  the 
case,  as  quoted  above,  when  extracted  from  its  con¬ 
stitutional  and  technical  setting,  runs  about  as  follows: 
This  act  is  an  unreasonable  infringement  on  the  right  of 
a  woman  to  use  her  own  judgment  as  to  how  long  and 
under  what  conditions  she  shall  work.  If  she  wants  to 
ruin  her  health,  that  is  her  affair,  not  ours.  The  law 
can  interfere  only  when  the  public  health  demands  it. 
If  it  can  be  shown  that  for  a  woman  to  work  more  than 


294 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


eight  hours  a  day  at  the  manufacture  of  clothing  is  not 
only  prejudicial  to  her  health,  but  also  to  the  health, 
safety,  and  welfare  of  the  public,  this  interference  on  the 
part  of  the  Government  would  be  reasonable. 

The  chief  point  here  is  not  whether  the  Government 
should  respect  individual  rights,  for  both  sides  admit 
that;  nor  whether  the  Government  should  protect  the 
public  welfare  or  not,  for  both  sides  admit  this  also.  In 
any  act  of  Government  these  aims  may  be  conceded. 
In  the  constitution  they  are  formulated,  but  of  necessity 
in  the  most  general  terms.  People  can  tell  in  general 
what  they  want  a  government  to  do,  but,  when  it  comes 
to  the  particular  application  of  that  on  which  they  are 
in  general  agreed,  differences  of  judgment  immediately 
arise.  So  here,  the  real  question  at  issue  is  just  how 
our  general  aims  apply  to  this  situation.  That  problem 
arises  afresh  for  every  new  situation.  Hence  the  neces¬ 
sity  of  a  system  of  deliberative  judgments  as  we  have 
them  in  the  courts. 

In  answering  this  type  of  problem  the  judge  must  turn 
from  the  constitution  to  experience.  No  amount  of  rea¬ 
soning  from  principle  will  throw  light  on  whether  or  not 
women’s  health  is  prejudiced  by  working  more  than 
eight  hours;  nothing  in  the  constitution  will  tell  whether 
or  not  the  hours  of  labor  for  women  affect  the  public 
health.  The  appeal  here  is  to  facts.  And  in  this  case 
the  judge  threw  out  the  act  because  he  thought  no  facts 
had  been  introduced  to  prove  that  the  act  really  did 
what  its  defenders  claimed  for  it.  Formally,  of  course, 
he  threw  it  out  because  it  was  unconstitutional. 

Fifteen  years  later  this  same  Mr.  Ritchie  was  again 
haled  before  the  same  court  to  test  the  constitutionality 
of  a  similar  law  for  regulating  the  hours  of  labor  for 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


295 


women  in  factories  —  this  time  a  ten-hour  law  passed  in 
1909.  (Ritchie  &  Co.  v.  Wayman,  244  Ill.  509.)  An 
entirely  new  bench  of  judges  was  sitting.  The  same 
old  arguments  were  raised  about  the  right  of  contract, 
liberty,  etc.  The  defense  rested  its  case  largely  upon 
the  decision  and  the  argument  quoted  above.  But  the 
prosecution,  under  the  leadership  of  Mr.  Louis  Brandeis, 
adopted  entirely  new  tactics.  Mr.  Brandeis  submitted 
a  brief  of  over  one  hundred  pages,  of  which  only  two 
pages  were  devoted  to  the  technical  legal  aspects  of  the 
problem.1  The  bulk  of  the  brief  was  a  mass  of  statistics 
gathered  from  all  over  the  world,  of  testimonies  from 
prominent  physicians  and  physiologists,  of  reports  from 
labor  commissions,  and  the  like,  all  proving  beyond 
doubt  the  real  point  of  the  argument,  namely,  that  usu¬ 
ally  the  health  of  women  is  seriously  undermined  by  the 
fatigue  and  strain  of  long  hours,  and  that  these  effects 
were  prejudicial  to  the  health  of  their  children  and  thus 
to  the  welfare  of  the  people  at  large. 

To  give  the  main  features  of  this  famous  document 
will  show  the  type  of  facts  of  which  law  must  take  cog¬ 
nizance,  and  how  they  are  made  known.  They  were  col¬ 
lected  under  the  direction  of  Miss  Josephine  Goldmark, 
and  may  be  found  in  her  volume  entitled  Fatigue  and 
Efficiency.  The  evidence  contained  the  following  items 
among  others: 

1.  Testimonies  of  a  number  of  physicians,  factory  inspec¬ 
tors,  statistical  bureaus,  insurance  companies,  etc.,  to 
the  effect  that 

(a)  Women  in  factories  are  more  subject  to  fatigue  and 
overstrain  caused  by  speed,  monotony,  piece-work, 
etc.,  than  men  are. 

1  This  brief  was  prepared  for  and  first  submitted  in  the  case  of  Muller 
v.  Oregon,  Supreme  Court  of  U.S.,  October,  1907. 


296 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


(b)  Women  are  more  subject  to  disease  than  men. 

2.  A  detailed  account  of  the  effect  of  fatigue  on  nerves  and 
muscles,  with  charts  showing  the  effect  of  long-contin¬ 
ued  stimulation  of  muscles,  the  physiological  functions 
of  rest,  etc. 

3.  Testimonies  of  experts,  submitted  in  the  courts  of  Eu¬ 
rope,  and  of  the  United  States,  as  to  the  bad  effects  of 
long  hours  on  health,  safety,  relation  between  fatigue 
and  disease,  etc. 

4.  Statistics  showing  the  relative  frequency  of  industrial 
accidents,  and  the  relative  production  for  the  working 
hours  of  the  day,  proving  beyond  doubt  that  increased 
accidents  and  decreased  efficiency  result  from  fatigue. 

5.  Testimonies  regarding  effect  of  fatigue  and  overwork  on 
morals,  infant  mortality,  health  of  the  next  generation, 
and  the  general  benefit  of  society. 

6.  Testimonies  regarding  the  benefits  of  leisure  and  recrea¬ 
tion. 

7.  Reports  from  countries  who  had  put  into  effect  laws  for 
shorter  hours,  proving  the  efficacy  of  such  legislation  to 
bring  about  the  results  desired. 

8.  Reports  and  testimonies  showing  that  shorter  hours  do 
not  eventually  restrict  the  output,  for  the  gain  in  effi¬ 
ciency  and  quality  of  output  soon  offsets  the  initial  re¬ 
duction  of  output. 

9.  Testimonies  showing  the  ill  effects  of  allowing  overtime, 
and  urging  uniformity  of  regulation  for  all. 

10.  Statistics  supporting  the  above  from  various  industries, 
for  example,  laundries,  mercantile  establishments,  mil¬ 
linery  and  dressmaking  shops,  restaurants,  etc. 

The  presentation  of  these  facts  really  determined  the 
judgment  of  the  court.  “  We  take  judicial  cognizance  of 
all  matters  of  general  knowledge”  was  the  dictum  of  the 
courts.  One  wonders,  of  course,  whether  the  reversal  of 
the  decision  was  really  due  to  the  introduction  of  these 
facts.  It  is  possible  that,  had  the  same  judges  been  sit¬ 
ting  here  who  sat  in  the  previous  case,  these  facts  might 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


297 


have  left  them  immovable.  Or  it  might  be  that,  even 
if  they  had  changed  their  minds  in  the  meantime,  the 
change  was  due  not  to  more  facts,  but  to  pressure  of 
public  sentiment  or  party  policy.  There  is  abundance 
of  evidence  to  show  that  judges  are  very  human  in  their 
capacity  to  be  influenced  consciously  or  unconsciously 
by  “extraneous ”  forces.  Political  parties,  for  instance, 
ever  since  the  days  of  John  Marshall,  have  realized  the 
importance  of  getting  “their  own  men7’  on  the  bench. 
But  granting  for  the  present  that  the  judges  in  both 
cases  were  skilled  and  conscientious  legal  logicians,  the 
case  is  significant  and  typical  to  this  extent,  that  it  indi¬ 
cates  how  and  why  the  intelligence  of  the  court  is  de¬ 
pendent  on  empirical  facts,  as  well  as  on  legal  tradition 
and  formal  reasoning.  This  does  not  mean,  of  course, 
that  the  technical  difficulties  which  had  stood  in  the 
way  of  the  former  act  were  simply  ignored,  and  that  the 
constitution  was  made  of  no  effect.  It  means  that  the 
choice  of  rival  interpretations  of  these  technical  matters 
was  determined  largely  by  the  empirical  and  practical 
issues  at  stake.  For  instance,  the  earlier  act  was  en¬ 
titled  “an  act  to  regulate  the  manufacture  of  clothing.” 
Since  the  constitution  gives  no  such  general  power  of 
regulation  to  the  legislature,  and  since  the  title  therefore 
proved  to  be  a  stumbling-block  in  the  courts,  the  enac¬ 
tors  of  the  second  act  emphasized  the  fact  that  it  was 
an  act  to  protect  the  safety  and  welfare  of  the  people, 
which  power  was  expressly  granted  to  the  legislature. 
The  questions  of  the  right  of  contract,  unfair  discrimina¬ 
tions,  etc.,  were  also  decided  in  the  light  of  these  facts. 
In  the  former  case  the  right  of  contract  was  held  to  place 
limits  upon  such  use  of  the  police  power  (precedents 
were  given) ;  in  the  latter  case  the  police  power  was  held 


298 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


to  place  limits  upon  the  right  of  contract  (precedents 
were  given).  Which  of  the  two  judgments  would  be 
made  depended  upon  the  relative  importance  which  the 
different  judges  attached  to  the  evil  effects  of  long  hours 
on  the  one  side,  or  of  loss  of  freedom  on  the  other,  rather 
than  upon  inconsistencies  of  argument.  Similarly  the 
matter  of  unfair  discrimination  was  decided  by  the  sig¬ 
nificance  attached  to  sex  differences,  to  conditions  exist¬ 
ing  in  factories  and  laundries,  etc.,  rather  than  by  appeal 
to  an  authoritative  interpretation  by  constitutional 
principles.  Thus  the  meaning  of  these  concepts  (right 
of  contract,  etc.)  gets  continually  redefined  in  the  light 
of  changing  conditions,  and  at  the  same  time  by  using 
such  concepts  the  changing  conditions  are  subjected  to 
some  sort  of  order  and  coherency.  These  concepts  or 
“principles,”  precisely  because  they  are  vague  and  capa¬ 
ble  of  various  interpretations,  are  useful  in  maintaining 
a  flexible  social  order  in  the  face  of  continual  change  and 
a  general  regularity  and  consistency  in  the  face  of  a  be¬ 
wildering  multitude  of  details.  But  when  such  principles 
are  assumed  to  be  fixed  and  definite,  like  mathematical 
axioms,  and  to  give  to  law  a  demonstrative  certainty, 
they  confuse  and  obstruct  social  practice  by  concealing 
social  uncertainty  under  such  sham  certainties.  The 
law  is,  of  course,  deductive  or  demonstrative  in  form, 
for  the  applications  of  a  law  must  be  demonstrated  to 
follow  from  it;  and  this  implies  that  the  form  or  struc¬ 
ture  of  legal  reasoning  must  be  logical.  But  skill  in 
formal  reasoning  alone  will  never  make  an  able  lawyer. 

Formal  reasoning  is  adequate  only  so  long  as  it  is  pos¬ 
sible  to  decide  a  case  on  the  basis  of  unambiguous  prec¬ 
edents.  If  the  issue  can  really  be  defined  and  deter¬ 
mined  merely  by  deducing  the  inferences  from  accepted 


THINKING  IN  LAW 


299 


precedents,  if  the  precedents  adequately  “cover”  the 
case,  the  reasoning  involved  is  purely  dialectical.  But 
this  practically  never  happens,  since  history  does  not 
repeat  itself  accurately  enough  to  enable  a  lawyer  (un¬ 
less  his  thinking  is  very  superficial)  to  apply  conclusions 
based  on  the  past  directly  to  a  present  case,  without 
raising  empirical  problems.  Reflective  thinking  in  law 
has  the  difficult  task  of  applying  a  rigordus  dialectical 
discipline  to  a  subject-matter  which  is  both  indefinite 
and  fluctuating;  if  it  sacrifices  precision  of  meaning  to 
formal  consistency,  it  loses  its  honesty;  if  it  sacrifices 
consistency  to  the  drift  of  opinion,  it  loses  its  power.  To 
think  well  on  legal  problems  requires  both  “reason”  and 
“wisdom”;  for  it  involves  both  the  intricacies  of  con¬ 
sistent  argument  and  the  intricacies  of  interpreting  the 
meaning  of  concepts  in  the  light  of  ever-changing  facts 
and  ideals. 

QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  Describe  the  various  attitudes  of  people  toward  the  policeman. 
What  light  does  this  throw  on  the  ways  in  which  law  operates  in  so¬ 
ciety? 

2.  Analyze  the  process  of  making  and  testing  laws  in  terms  of  the 
analysis  of  an  act  of  thought  given  in  the  Introduction  to  the  book. 

3.  What  improvements  in  the  process  of  legislation  might  be  expected 
if  it  were  exclusively  in  the  hands  of  lawyers  and  judges?  What 
dangers  and  disadvantages? 

4.  Analyze  the  thinking  involved  in  the  Eighteenth  Amendment  to 
the  Constitution  from  the  time  it  was  first  proposed  until  the  deci¬ 
sion  as  to  the  constitutionality  of  the  Volstead  Act. 

5.  What  limiting  factors  must  reflective  thinking  in  legislation  keep  in 
mind? 

6.  What  use  do  lawyers  and  judges  make  of  authority  and  precedent? 
What  similarities  and  what  difference  does  this  use  of  authority 
present  compared  with  its  use  in  the  scientific  thinking  which  you 
have  studied  in  previous  chapters? 

7.  What  problems  for  reflective  thinking  are  peculiar  to  the  moral  and 
social  sciences,  and  how  do  they  manifest  themselves  in  law? 


300 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


8.  What  is  the  difference  between  “law”  in  the  legal  sense  and  in  the 
sense  of  “laws  of  nature”? 

9.  Make  a  list  of  the  terms  which  Mr.  Justice  Magruder  defines  in  the 
argument  cited.  How  does  he  go  about  defining  them?  How 
would  you  go  about  it? 

10.  What  elements  of  the  argument  of  Mr.  Justice  Magruder  were  con¬ 
tradicted  by  the  later  decision  against  Ritchie?  Can  either  of  the 
two  arguments  be  proved  formally  fallacious?  What  inferences 
would  you  draw  from  your  answers  to  these  questions  about  “judi¬ 
cial  reasoning”? 

11.  In  a  similar  case  to  the  one  cited  in  the  text,  a  judge  remarked  that 
this  argument  would  have  more  force  if  the  women,  not  their  em¬ 
ployers,  were  clamoring  for  freedom  of  contract.  Do  you  think 
this  is  a  valid  objection?  What  are  your  reasons  for  thinking  so? 

12.  Read  Cardozo’s  The  Nature  of  the  Judicial  Process.  What  does  he 
mean  by  “the  method  of  philosophy”  and  the  “method  of  his¬ 
tory”? 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Benjamin  N.  Cardozo:  The  Nature  of  the  Judicial  Process.  Yale  Uni¬ 
versity  Press,  1921.  (The  best  brief  and  non-technical  discussion  of 
law  from  the  standpoint  of  reflective  thinking.) 

Munroe  Smith :  Jurisprudence.  Columbia  University  Press,  1909. 

W.  N.  Hohfeld:  Fundamental  Conceptions  Applied  in  Judicial  Reasoning. 
Yale  University  Press,  1919. 

Roscoe  Pound:  The  Spirit  of  the  Common  Law.  Boston,  1921.  (Espe¬ 
cially  chap,  vn,  “  Judicial  Empiricisms ”;  chap,  viii,  “Legal  Reason.”) 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes:  Collected  Legal  Papers.  New  York,  1921.  (Es¬ 
pecially  pp.  25-32,  167-249,  and  291-97.) 

James  H.  Tufts:  “The  Legal  and  Social  Philosophy  of  Mr.  Justice 
Holmes.”  American  Bar  Association  Journal ,  vol.  vn,  no.  7,  pp.  359- 
63,  July,  1921. 

James  H.  Tufts:  “Judicial  Law-Making  Exemplified  in  Industrial  Arbi¬ 
tration.”  Columbia  Law  Review,  vol.  xxi;  no.  5,  pp.  405-15,  May, 
1921. 

Sir  Frederick  Pollock:  Essays  in  Jurisprudence  and  Ethics.  1882.  (Es¬ 
pecially  “The  Science  of  Case  Law.”) 

Pierre  de  Tourtoulon:  Philosophy  in  the  Development  of  Law.  Translated 
by  Martha  McRead.  Being  vol.  xm  of  the  “  Modern  Legal  Philoso¬ 
phy  Series.”  1922.  Chapters  vm-xi  inclusive. 


CHAPTER  XII 

REFLECTIVE  THOUGHT  IN  THE  REALM  OF  ETHICS 

Section  1 .  The  Ethical  Situation 

In  Chapter  IX  the  general  problems,  methods,  and  dif¬ 
ficulties  of  evaluation  were  discussed.  Since  ethics  at¬ 
tempts  to  evaluate  human  character  and  conduct,  it 
encounters  the  difficulties  which  were  seen  to  confront 
all  reflective  evaluation.  In  the  first  place,  we  saw  that 
there  are  immediate  values  which  cannot  be  measured 
by  any  standard  common  to  a  number  of  individuals, 
but  which  have  to  be  judged  privately,  each  individual 
gauging  as  best  he  can  his  own  liking  for  the  various  al¬ 
ternatives  between  which  he  must  choose.  To  measure 
values  objectively,  we  must  consider  them  in  their  medi¬ 
ate  aspects,  as  means  to  the  realization  of  certain  ends ; 
and  our  ability  to  do  this  depends  upon  our  readiness  to 
take  certain  ends  for  granted,  so  that  we  may  apply  ob¬ 
jective  methods  to  determine  which  means  will  best  sat¬ 
isfy  those  ends.  In  general,  we  saw  that  the  soundness 
of  our  evaluation  depends  upon  our  success  in  seeing  all 
the  implications  of  a  decision,  and  in  estimating  cor¬ 
rectly  our  desires  with  respect  to  them. 

Has  evaluation  in  ethics  any  peculiar  characteristics 
distinguishing  it  from  other  kinds  of  evaluation?  What 
reasons  are  there,  if  any,  for  giving  separate  attention  to 
reflection  in  ethics?  This  question  is  one  upon  which 
mankind  has  reached  no  general  agreement.  To  some 
ethics  is  a  unique  subject  with  methods  all  its  own, 
while  others  hold  there  is  no  difference  between  the  logic 


302 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


by  which  ethical  questions  are  decided  and  the  logic  of 
any  other  field.  There  are  also  many  intermediate 
positions. 

Most  people  recognize  that  ethical  problems  have  a 
special  importance,  even  if  they  believe  that  the  logic  of 
ethical  judgment  is  the  same  as  that  of  any  other  field. 
In  analyzing  the  process  of  legal  decision,  we  have  seen 
the  very  elaborate  machinery  which  men  set  up  to  solve 
certain  problems  arising  in  their  relations  with  one  an¬ 
other.  But  the  solutions  reached  by  this  machinery  are 
not  always  satisfactory.  People  ask :  Are  the  laws  just? 
And  even  if  the  answer  “yes”  is  returned,  the  very  ask¬ 
ing  of  the  question  implies  a  criticism  of  the  laws,  a 
reviewing  of  them  in  the  light  of  standards  which  are 
regarded  as  more  fundamental  than  they.  The  part 
which  such  standards  may  play  in  the  judicial  process 
has  been  suggested. 

To  arrive  at  certain  ultimate  standards,  by  which  all 
else  can  be  evaluated,  is  the  cardinal  problem  of  reflec¬ 
tion  in  ethics.  It  is  a  problem  which  every  one,  who 
participates  in  social  life,  must  solve  in  some  fashion, 
well  or  ill.  Every  man,  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
employs  some  set  of  ultimate  standards,  be  they  con¬ 
sistent  with  each  other  or  inconsistent.  Moreover,  to 
question  a  person’s  ultimate  standards  is  to  touch  him 
at  a  very  tender  point,  namely,  his  moral  consciousness. 

In  the  chapter  on  evaluation  we  remarked  that  re¬ 
flection  is  hindered  in  this  field  even  more  than  in  others 
by  prejudices,  judgments  already  formed  in  advance  of 
the  act  of  judging.  Prejudices  in  ethics,  being  sup¬ 
ported  by  the  moral  consciousness  which  we  have  men¬ 
tioned,  are  of  all  prejudices  the  most  powerful.  All  of 
us  have  been  taught  from  our  earliest  years  that  some 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


SOS 


actions  are  right,  others  wrong,  and,  since  it  is  of  the 
first  importance  that  our  conduct  should  not  be  such  as 
to  bring  ourselves  or  others  into  difficulty,  this  moral  in¬ 
doctrination  has  ordinarily  been  as  thorough  as  possi¬ 
ble.  Erroneous  opinions  about  physics  or  geography 
are  not  ordinarily  considered  serious  except  for  the  phys¬ 
ical  scientist,  for  a  man  may  believe  that  the  earth 
is  flat  without  harming  himself  or  any  one  else.  Erro¬ 
neous  opinions  about  morals  are  another  matter,  and  it  is 
generally  believed  that  every  effort  ought  to  be  made  to 
prevent  any  one  from  supposing  that  he  is  at  liberty 
to  appropriate  the  possessions  of  others  without  their 
consent,  or  to  follow  his  impulses  at  every  moment  with¬ 
out  restraint  of  any  sort.  It  is  not  important,  in  other 
words,  that  more  than  a  limited  number  of  persons 
should  possess  mathematical  and  scientific  knowledge, 
since  such  knowledge  is  required  for  only  a  fraction  of 
our  activities;  but  all  persons  at  all  times  need  guidance 
in  their  personal  conduct,  and  every  precaution  is  ac¬ 
cordingly  taken  that  no  one  is  left  unsupplied  with  moral 
convictions. 

Furthermore,  the  beliefs  on  which  our  conduct  is 
based  are  often  such  as  to  compel  us  to  forego  pleasures 
and  satisfactions  which  we  desire  very  much,  and,  un¬ 
less  we  are  strongly  convinced  of  the  truth  of  these  be¬ 
liefs,  and  of  their  universal  applicability,  we  are  likely 
to  make  exceptions  to  them  in  our  favor  whenever  they 
conflict  with  our  desires.  The  suspension  of  judgment, 
consequently,  which  is  enjoined  upon  scientists  and  in¬ 
vestigators  in  the  field  of  abstract  knowledge  in  general, 
is  not  thought  an  advantage  when  beliefs  about  conduct 
are  concerned.  It  is  thought  that  any  one  not  entirely 
convinced  that  theft  is  wrong  is  dangerously  likely  to 


304 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


dispense  with  honesty  in  his  personal  practice.  To  call 
into  question  any  generally  accepted  moral  opinion  is, 
therefore,  to  appear  in  the  light  of  one  seeking  justifica¬ 
tion  for  moral  lapses,  or  at  least  as  the  instigator  of  such 
lapses  in  others:  moral  initiative  is  indistinguishable 
from  immorality.  Under  the  circumstances,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  the  free  discussion  out  of  which  comes 
progress  in  intellectual  matters  has  not  prevailed  in  the 
ethical  field,  and  that  the  positive  results  elsewhere 
achieved  are  conspicuously  lacking  in  ethics. 

The  conditions  under  which  one  ordinarily  comes  to 
the  study  of  ethics  are,  then,  as  follows.  Before  he  has 
ever  reflected  about  right  and  wrong  at  all,  he  has  had 
impressed  upon  him  a  code  of  rules  for  conduct,  the  va¬ 
lidity  of  which,  he  has  been  taught,  is  not  open  to  debate. 
These  rules  appear  to  be,  in  the  main,  a  set  of  prohibi¬ 
tions,  the  more  obvious  purpose  of  which  is  to  safeguard 
the  welfare  of  others.  Large  numbers  of  the  acts  which 
he  would  naturally  be  prompted  to  perform  are  forbid¬ 
den  him,  and  the  estimation  in  which  he  is  held  depends 
upon  acceptance  of  these  prohibitions  so  that  his  fellow 
men  may  prosper.  To  such  an  extent  is  this  true  that  in 
the  popular  view  morality  is  almost  the  same  thing  as 
self-denial  and,  especially,  self-sacrifice.  If  I  do  what  I 
wish  I  am  not,  perhaps,  immoral,  but  neither  in  any 
positive  sense  moral,  while  if  I  yield  my  desires  so  that 
others  may  gratify  theirs,  my  virtue  is  incontestable. 
The  interests  of  the  individual  and  the  interests  of  so¬ 
ciety  are  in  conflict,  and  the  individual  is  moral  in  pro¬ 
portion  as  he  sacrifices  his  welfare  to  the  welfare  of  the 
whole.  Should  he  decline  to  make  the  sacrifice,  society 
will  exact  it :  the  policeman  will  deal  with  him  if  he  dis¬ 
regards  such  of  the  social  demands  as  are  enacted  into 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


305 


law,  and  public  opinion  will  bring  pressure  to  bear  upon 
him  in  behalf  of  the  remainder. 

This  system  of  repressions  comes  to  appear,  however, 
not  merely  as  a  thwarting  of  part  of  the  individual's  de¬ 
sires.  It  is  also  an  assurance  of  satisfaction  to  another 
part  of  his  desires.  If  I  am  prevented  from  interfering 
with  my  neighbor's  interests,  he  also  is  prevented  from 
interfering  with  mine.  At  the  price  of  accepting  duties, 
I  acquire  rights,  and  the  two  are  correlative;  I  cannot 
enjoy  the  latter  without  submitting  to  the  former. 
Here,  again,  some  of  the  rights  are  guaranteed  by  law, 
and  if  they  are  threatened  I  can  enlist  the  force  of  the 
state  in  my  behalf ;  others  are  safeguarded  only  by  pub¬ 
lic  opinion.  I  can  sue  a  man  who  refuses  to  pay  his  law¬ 
ful  debts  to  me;  if  I  convey  some  information  under 
promise  of  secrecy  and  the  promise  is  broken,  though  I 
have  no  legal  redress,  the  disapproval  of  the  circle  in 
which  we  move  may  be  quite  as  effective  a  punishment 
as  fine  or  imprisonment.  Any  moral  and  legal  code 
whatever  secures  as  well  as  circumscribes  my  field  of  in¬ 
terests. 

Reflection  on  morals  takes  place  when  we  begin  to 
consider  the  justification  of  the  moral  code  in  detail.  It 
starts  often  from  a  comparison  of  the  moral  standards  of 
different  times  and  different  peoples.  An  individual  on 
whom  any  existing  set  of  moral  rules  did  not  press  with 
excessive  severity  would  be  comparatively  unlikely  to 
question  the  justice  of  the  customs  of  his  people  if  he 
knew  no  others.  Finding,  however,  that  some  of  the 
things  of  which  he  is  deprived  by  the  laws  under  which 
he  lives  are  not  forbidden  to  the  citizens  of  other  coun¬ 
tries,  who  in  spite  of  their  greater  freedom  do  not  come 
to  disaster,  he  begins  to  question  the  necessity  of  the 


306 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


particular  tabu,  and  finally  raises  the  question  of  the 
justification  of  each  and  every  prohibition.  The  price 
paid  for  security  may  seem  exorbitant,  or,  if  it  is  not  ex¬ 
orbitant  on  the  whole,  the  individual  may  wish  to  be 
shown  in  detail  what  will  be  returned  to  him  for  each 
particular  act  of  self-denial.  If  we  suppose  him  to  de¬ 
cide  that  no  adequate  quid  pro  quo  is  in  sight,  is  his  first 
duty  to  authority,  or  is  his  liberty  sacred?  Must  I  al¬ 
ways  do  what  society  regards  as  my  duty,  or  may  I  take 
issue  with  society  if  I  think  its  laws,  written  or  unwrit¬ 
ten,  unjustified,  and  act  on  my  individual  opinion? 

Questions  of  this  kind  lead  to  the  formation  of  ideals, 
ultimate  standards,  in  the  light  of  which  choices  are 
made  and  justified.  It  is  the  conflict  between  these 
ideals  which  gives  rise  to  the  cardinal  problem  of  reflec¬ 
tive  ethics.  Between  two  ultimate  standards  is  there 
any  way  of  deciding  which  is  the  better?  In  previous 
chapters  we  studied  cases  in  which  old  views  gave  place 
to  new  which  were  generally  accepted,  and  by  examin¬ 
ing  the  reasons  for  these  changes  we  gained  some  knowl¬ 
edge  of  reflective  thinking.  But  in  ethical  controversies 
there  has  been  much  less  general  agreement  as  to  which 
of  the  various  proposed  solutions  is  best.  In  mathemat¬ 
ics  or  physics  or  astronomy  it  was  possible  to  illustrate  the 
nature  of  reflective  thought  by  analyzing  solutions  which 
were  undeniably  solutions.  Though  no  one  supposes 
that  in  the  Copernican  astronomy  the  last  word  on  the 
movements  of  celestial  bodies  is  uttered,  its  relative  satis¬ 
factoriness  as  against,  for  example,  the  Ptolemaic  astron¬ 
omy,  is  questioned  by  no  one  competent  to  judge.  The 
logician,  when  he  attempts  to  distinguish  between  the 
better  and  the  worse  in  thought  by  discovering  the  char¬ 
acteristics  in  which  the  heliocentric  theory  differs  from 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


307 


the  geocentric,  runs  no  risk  of  failing  to  identify  the  bet¬ 
ter  theory.  But  in  ethics  there  is  no  such  certainty. 
In  considering  a  genuine  ethical  problem  we  are  not  at 
liberty  to  take  any  suggested  solution  as  the  solution,  and 
compare  it  with  alternative  solutions.  There  is  no  pre¬ 
eminently  and  indubitably  satisfactory  solution,  and 
consequently  no  analysis  of  conclusive  proof  in  ethics 
can  be  offered. 

If  this  be  true,  what  profit  may  we  reasonably  expect 
from  the  analysis  of  a  controversy  in  ethics?  Let  us  not 
answer  this  question  without  experiment.  Let  us  ex¬ 
amine  carefully  the  discussion  of  some  important  ethical 
problem,  and  see  whether  any  kind  of  progress  or  devel¬ 
opment  may  be  noted  in  the  thinking,  such  as  would 
give  us  some  criteria  for  evaluating  reflective  thought  in 
ethics.  It  would  be  rash  to  say  that  all  thinking  was 
vain  and  profitless  which  did  not  reach  a  solution  to  its 
problem  upon  which  every  one  could  agree.  The  early 
Greek  scientists,  like  most  pioneers  in  every  field,  did 
not  succeed  in  proving  or  in  gaining  the  universal  ac¬ 
ceptance  of  any  of  their  major  theories.  Yet  they  made 
progress  in  discovering  the  real  problems  of  science  and 
in  suggesting  the  kinds  of  concepts  by  which  those  prob¬ 
lems  might  be  solved.  Perhaps  we  shall  find  a  some¬ 
what  similar  situation  in  the  field  of  ethics. 

The  conflict  between  the  ideals  of  individualism  and 
of  collectivism  is  the  particular  issue  which  we  have 
chosen  for  our  experiment.  The  statement  of  this  con¬ 
flict  has  been  foreshadowed  in  the  introductory  section; 
in  the  section  which  follows  a  more  definite,  though  still 
provisional  account  of  it  will  be  offered. 


S08 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Section  2.  Individualism  vs .  Collectivism 

Every  one  is  aware  of  a  distinction  between  what  he  is 
permitted  by  society  to  do  and  what  he  is  not  permitted 
to  do,  and  almost  every  one  meets  some  situations  in 
which  he  thinks  it  would  be  better  from  some  points  of 
view  to  do  what  he  is  not  permitted  to  do.  For  in¬ 
stance,  a  man  may  think  it  better  not  to  pay  a  tax  main¬ 
taining  armaments,  but  the  law  requires  him  to  pay  it. 
The  individualist  is  one  who  is  impressed  by  the  fre¬ 
quency  and  harmfulness  of  these  dilemmas,  and  who, 
therefore,  regards  control  by  law  or  by  public  opinion 
as  at  best  a  necessary  evil  which  should  be  reduced  to 
the  minimum  possible.  The  collectivist,  on  the  other 
hand,  believes  that  either  from  incapacity  to  judge  of  his 
own  welfare  or  natural  indifference  to  the  welfare  of 
others,  or  else  for  the  sake  of  greater  social  efficiency, 
the  individual  requires  guidance  and  control,  and  that 
extension  of  such  control  wherever  it  can  be  made  ef¬ 
fective  is  advisable. 

I.  THE  CASE  FOR  INDIVIDUALISM 

In  the  course  of  controversy  it  becomes  necessary  for 
both  parties  to  state  their  ideals  more  explicitly.  Indi¬ 
vidualism,  if  pushed  to  the  logical  extreme,  would  deny 
the  justification  of  any  social  control  whatever.  We 
need  not,  however,  pause  for  a  discussion  of  a  theory  of 
anarchy  in  morals.  It  is  not  seriously  maintained  by 
any  one  that  we  ought  all  to  do  what  happens  to  please 
us  irrespective  of  its  effect  on  any  one  else;  in  other 
words,  that  there  are  no  such  things  as  obligations. 
For  better  or  for  worse,  we  are  social  beings,  and  unless 
we  are  prepared  to  feed,  shelter,  and  clothe  ourselves 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


309 


without  help  from  anybody,  and  to  limit  our  conversa¬ 
tion  to  soliloquy,  we  must  pay  due  regard  to  the  conven¬ 
tions  which  make  associated  activities  possible.  Since 
we  cannot  live,  or  at  least  get  more  than  a  small  fraction 
of  the  things  we  wish,  without  the  services  of  our  fellow 
men,  we  must  offer  a  return  for  such  services;  and  this 
consideration,  in  the  individualist’s  opinion,  both  justifies 
and  defines  our  obligations.  Our  bargain  is  within  lim¬ 
its  a  good  bargain,  but  we  are  obliged  to  make  a  return 
only  for  value  received,  and  if  we  yield  more  we  are  al¬ 
lowing  ourselves  to  be  imposed  upon  and  deprived  of 
our  rights.  Correspondingly,  we  are  entitled  to  ask  of 
others  only  such  deference  to  our  wishes  as  we  have 
earned  by  deference  to  theirs,  and  we  are  usurping  au¬ 
thority  that  belongs  rightly  to  them  if  we  seek  to  control 
any  of  their  actions  or  preferences  that  do  not  affect  the 
fulfillment  of  our  desires. 

Such  considerations  are  equally  applicable  to  our 
private  and  to  our  public  activities.  Certain  of  our  acts 
affect  gravely  the  welfare  of  others,  and  for  control  of 
these  the  state  exists,  of  which  the  characteristic  feature 
is  the  power  to  use  compulsion.  Its  role  is  limited  to  the 
preservation  of  our  security;  externally,  to  defense 
against  aggression  on  the  part  of  other  nations;  inter¬ 
nally,  against  attack  by  other  individuals.  An  ideal 
state  in  an  ideal  world  would  have  no  other  functions 
than  the  maintenance  of  order  and  the  enforcement  of 
contracts.  We  ought  to  be  compelled,  that  is  to  say,  to 
do  no  more  than  respect  the  rights  of  others  and  dis¬ 
charge  such  obligations  to  them  as  we  have  contracted 
for.  The  state  may  tax  us  for  the  support  of  the  judge, 
the  policeman,  and  the  soldier,  but  for  nothing  else. 

The  general  distinction  which  the  individualist  draws 


310 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Is  thus  between  acts  which  affect  ourselves  only,  and 
those  which  affect  others,  and  he  is  prepared  to  admit 
interference,  by  the  state  or  by  public  opinion,  only 
with  the  latter.  This  conclusion  is  reinforced  by  two 
sets  of  arguments,  the  first  drawn  from  a  study  of  com¬ 
parative  ethics,  the  latter  from  the  results  of  compulsion 
on  the  character  and  usefulness  of  those  subjected  to  it. 
If  we  consider  the  codes  under  which  people  live  and 
have  lived,  we  find  a  vast  number  of  conflicting  ideas, 
along  with  a  certain  amount  of  agreement.  All  civilized 
states  maintain  for  their  citizens  a  reasonable  measure  of 
security:  they  protect  the  lives  and  property  of  those 
who  come  under  the  jurisdiction  of  their  laws.  In  ad¬ 
dition,  however,  they  impose  restrictions  and  exact  du¬ 
ties  which  vary  from  state  to  state,  no  one  of  which, 
therefore,  is  essential  to  the  existence  of  a  stable  com¬ 
munity.  Public  opinion,  going  beyond  this,  adds  to  the 
burden.  Individuals  are  obliged  not  only  to  respect  the 
rights  of  others,  as  they  ought  to  be :  they  are  compelled 
to  order  their  private  affairs  in  accordance  with  the  ideas 
of  the  majority  of  their  fellow  citizens;  and  this  is  wholly 
unjustifiable.  If  we  go  further  afield  and  consider  the 
moral  codes  of  primitive  peoples,  we  find  that  the  sav¬ 
age  is  subjected  to  innumerable  prohibitions  or  tabus  for 
which  no  utility  can  be  found.  “His  whole  life,  to  its 
minutest  detail,  is  ordained  for  him  by  the  voice  of  the 
herd,  and  he  must  not,  under  the  most  dreadful  sanc¬ 
tions,  step  outside  its  elaborate  order.” 1  Whom  he  may 
marry,  what  he  must  wear,  how  he  must  conduct  him¬ 
self  in  the  presence  of  his  superiors,  his  inferiors,  and  his 
equals,  are  matters  rigidly  determined  by  the  custom  of 
his  tribe.  We  find,  in  other  words,  that  men  in  associa- 

1  Trotter.  Instincts  of  the  Herd  in  Peace  and  War. 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


311 

tion,  whether  through  legal  or  extra-legal  means,  con¬ 
stantly  tend  to  interfere  with  actions  on  the  part  of  their 
fellows  that  have  no  bearing  on  the  proper  concerns  of 
the  state;  that  authority  is  naturally  disposed  to  be 
tyrannical,  to  meddle,  and  to  enjoin  upon  the  individual 
behavior  inimical  to  his  own  welfare. 

If  we  compare  the  life  of  civilized  communities,  in 
which  the  individual  has  won  at  least  a  measure  of  free¬ 
dom  from  control,  with  that  of  the  savages,  where  custom 
is  all-powerful  and  brooks  no  exceptions,  we  find  that 
it  is  only  in  the  former  that  there  is  any  trace  of  what 
we  call  ‘  ‘  individuality.”  In  the  absence  of  this  character¬ 
istic,  it  would  hardly  be  too  much  to  say,  there  can  be 
nothing  of  real  value.  People  are  only  happy  in  their  own 
lives,  or  of  interest  in  the  lives  of  others,  in  so  far  as  they 
are  at  liberty  to  develop  in  their  own  peculiar  fashion, 
to  display  their  distinctive  gifts  and  become  unique  per¬ 
sonalities.  But  compulsion,  the  individualist  contends, 
is  in  its  nature  repressive;  it  forces  those  affected  by  it 
into  a  stereotyped  mould,  and  allows  no  play  whatever 
for  individuality.  A  rich  variety  of  types  is  not  only 
more  valuable  from  an  aesthetic  point  of  view;  it  is  also 
more  effective  practically.  A  state  has  many  and  va¬ 
ried  problems  to  solve,  and  requires  in  consequence  ex¬ 
tensive  resources  in  human  material  to  draw  upon:  if  all 
people  are  alike,  there  can  be  no  specialized  functions,  as 
there  are  none,  or  almost  none,  among  savages.  What 
is  done  under  compulsion,  furthermore,  is  badly  done. 
A  man  acts  effectively,  as  a  rule,  only  when  he  is  doing 
what  he  likes,  when  he  is  free  to  act  or  not  to  act  accord¬ 
ing  to  his  pleasure.  Hence  the  superiority  of  private 
initiative  to  governmental  direction.  We  secure  spon¬ 
taneity,  inventiveness,  resourcefulness,  in  a  word,  effec- 


312 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


tiveness,  in  every  field  of  activity,  only  when  we  let  peo¬ 
ple  alone,  permit  them  to  do  as  they  please.  Hence  that 
government  and  that  public  opinion  is  best  that  governs 
least :  authority  is  always  to  be  distrusted,  and  the  eter¬ 
nal  vigilance  on  the  individual's  part  in  scrutinizing  law 
and  convention  is  the  price  of  liberty  and  happiness. 

This  argument,  if  it  is  justified,  yields  an  ethical  com 
elusion  of  general  validity.  It  supplies  us  with  a  test 
for  deciding  which  of  the  acts  prescribed  by  society  and 
the  state  are  justly  prescribed,  and  which  are  not;  it  en¬ 
ables  the  individual  to  judge  of  the  extent  to  which  he  is 
morally  bound  to  obey  the  commands  of  his  people.  It 
does  not,  of  course,  answer  every  question  that  may  be 
asked  about  his  conduct,  since  unjust  laws  may  be 
obeyed  on  the  ground  of  expediency;  but  it  does  answer 
an  important  part  of  the  moral  question  in  a  way  equally 
valid  for  all  men.  Nor,  it  must  be  added,  does  any  sci¬ 
ence  answer  questions  of  practice  in  a  final  or  conclusive 
manner.  The  most  perfectly  trained  physician  may  err 
in  the  diagnosis  or  treatment  of  a  case:  the  application 
of  his  knowledge  may  in  a  concrete  instance  always  go 
astray.  Universal  validity,  which  is  characteristic  of 
the  sciences,  does  not  involve  absolute  finality  or  abso¬ 
lute  certainty  in  application.  The  absence  of  these  in 
our  present  state  of  ethical  knowledge  is,  therefore,  no 
bar  to  the  inclusion  of  ethics  among  the  sciences  if  it 
can  furnish  us  with  laws  that  may  be  both  proved  and 
applied  to  concrete  cases  to  the  same  extent,  as  for  ex¬ 
ample,  the  principles  of  medicine.  Such,  it  is  alleged, 
is  the  general  statement  that  the  individual  owes  only 
such  services  as  society  has  earned  by  assuring  his  se¬ 
curity,  with  the  corollary  that  the  degree  of  compulsion 
exerted  by  society  far  oversteps  this  limit,  and  ought  to 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


313 


be  resisted  until  it  is  reduced  to  the  extent  indicated  by 
the  general  principle.  This  statement  is  true  for  every 
individual  and  for  every  community;  it  carries  with 
it  particular  consequences  of  practical  value,  and  its 
truth  and  value  vindicate  the  claim  of  reflective  thought 
to  be  applicable  to  the  sphere  of  conduct. 

We  may  summarize  the  contentions  of  the  individual¬ 
ist  as  follows:  Human  interests  naturally  conflict,  and 
their  conflict  can  only  be  resolved  by  mutual  concessions. 
Since  we  accept  others’  concessions,  we  are  in  duty 
bound  to  make  concessions  ourselves.  By  living  in  so¬ 
ciety,  we  tacitly  accept  the  “social  contract,”  the  obli¬ 
gations  of  which  society  may  with  justice  compel  us  to 
discharge.  Over  such  of  our  acts  as  affect  only  our¬ 
selves,  society  has  no  jurisdiction,  and  if  it  attempts  to 
control  them  it  ought  to  be  resisted.  If  it  is  well  ad¬ 
vised,  it  will  make  no  such  attempt,  since  we  are  not 
only  happier,  but  also  more  valuable  to  it  if  we  are  left, 
subject  to  the  above  reservation,  to  do  as  we  please. 

II.  THE  CASE  FOR  COLLECTIVISM 

Criticism  of  the  above  argument  begins  by  making 
explicit  the  assumptions  underlying  it.  It  takes  for 
granted,  first,  that  actions  may  be  divided  into  those  af¬ 
fecting  only  the  agent,  and  those  affecting  also  his  fel¬ 
lows;  second,  that  there  is  a  natural  and  essential  con¬ 
flict  between  the  interests  of  different  individuals,  such 
that  compulsion  exerted  upon  one  man  in  the  interests 
of  others  or  of  society  as  a  whole  is  necessarily  abridg¬ 
ment  of  the  freedom  of  the  individual  coerced ;  finally, 
that  every  one  knows  what  he  wishes,  is  the  best  judge 
of  what  will  satisfy  his  desires.  All  these  assumptions 
may  be  denied,  and  the  collectivist  does  deny  them  all. 


314 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


He  asserts,  in  contrast,  that  all  our  desires  and  acts  are 
indissolubly  bound  up  with  one  another,  and  that  if  any 
of  them  are  society’s  concern,  all  of  them  are.  The 
state  may  set  a  norm  for  private  as  well  as  public  life, 
exercise  a  positive  as  well  as  a  negative  function.  If  it 
is  objected  that  this  opens  the  way  to  unlimited  exploi¬ 
tation  of  the  individual  in  the  interests  of  society,  the  re¬ 
ply  is  that  no  opposition  exists  between  the  interests  of 
the  two :  society  is  not  an  external  means  to  the  ends  of 
the  individual,  but  we  are  in  all  literalness  “  members 
one  of  another.”  The  welfare  of  society  is  directly  and 
immediately  a  part  of  the  individual's  welfare,  for  with¬ 
out  his  relations  to  others  he  would  not  be  even  an  indi¬ 
vidual.  Finally,  if  the  individualist  contends  that  com¬ 
pulsion  is  still  unjustified,  since  to  the  extent  that  the 
welfare  of  the  man  and  the  State  are  one  no  compulsion 
is  needed,  the  collectivist  replies  that  the  individual  does 
not,  in  the  beginning,  know  his  own  welfare.  What  he 
supposes  himself  to  desire  is  in  many  cases  utterly  un¬ 
satisfactory  to  him  when  he  gets  it,  and  what  appears 
compulsion  and  the  negation  of  liberty  is  really  a  direc¬ 
tion  of  his  energies  into  channels  that  have  in  the  past 
been  proved  to  lead  to  a  real  goal,  and  not  to  some  il¬ 
lusory  Utopia.  When  any  one  wishes  anything  contrary 
to  what  the  law  permits  him,  the  argument  runs,  he 
may  be  sure  that  the  end  he  has  in  view  would  not 
satisfy  him  if  he  could  reach  it.  At  best  it  could  be  had 
only  at  the  sacrifice  of  some  greater  good  which  in  his 
ignorance  he  has  overlooked.  True  freedom  and  obedi¬ 
ence  to  law  are  not,  consequently,  opposed,  for  law, 
when  positive  as  when  negative,  interprets  to  each  man 
his  own  will,  and  when  he  hearkens  to  it  he  hears  the 
voice  of  his  own  best  self. 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


315 


The  first  point  is  one  easily  made.  The  individualist 
was  unwilling  to  allow  the  state  to  compel  or  supervise 
education,  to  forbid  the  use  of  alcohol  or  drugs,  to  look 
after  the  health  of  the  personal  tastes  of  its  people,  be¬ 
cause  these  things  relate  to  the  private  life,  and  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  discharge  of  one’s  obligations  to 
others.  They  have,  however,  much  to  do  with  the  ade¬ 
quate  discharge  of  such  obligations,  and  the  social  wel¬ 
fare  as  a  whole.  Illiteracy,  addiction  to  drugs,  and  in 
general  a  low  level  of  culture  and  intelligence  are  inju¬ 
rious  to  each  and  all,  and  in  preventing  them  to  the  ut¬ 
most  possible  extent  it  is  the  claim  of  the  collectivist  that 
the  state  is  increasing  and  not  diminishing  freedom.  It 
is  possible  to  be  a  slave  to  superstition,  ignorance,  ill- 
health,  and  vice,  and  the  compulsion  exerted  by  the 
state  and  public  opinion  to  prevent  these  conditions  riv¬ 
ets  no  fetters  upon  the  individual,  but  rather  breaks 
them.  Abstract  freedom  of  contract  may  in  practice 
turn  out  to  be  servitude,  none  the  less  real  because  it  is 
enforced  by  the  “  invisible  lash  of  hunger.”  Liberty,  in 
the  only  real  sense,  is  something  that  must  be  assured 
by  legislation,  not  by  merely  leaving  the  individual 
alone. 

This  conviction  is  deepened  if  we  consider,  not  the 
conditions  under  which  we  can  secure  our  ends,  but  the 
ends  themselves.  The  individualist  considers  associa¬ 
tion  between  individuals  as  merely  incidental  to  the  ac¬ 
quisition  by  each  of  the  things  he  wishes  to  enjoy,  and 
the  services  he  renders  to  society  as  always  a  subtrac¬ 
tion  from  his  total  enjoyment.  But  if  there  were  no  so¬ 
ciety,  no  other  persons  in  the  world,  the  individual 
would  be  nothing,  or  at  least  there  would  be  nothing  to 
characterize  him  as  a  human  being.  He  would  have  no 


316 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


interests  to  make  his  own,  nothing  to  enlist  his  energies 
and  provide  an  end  in  the  achievement  of  which  he 
could  find  his  satisfaction.  Vocationless,  companion¬ 
less,  with  nothing  to  do  but  find  food  and  shelter  him¬ 
self  from  the  elements,  he  would  be  precisely  on  a  par 
with  the  animals.  If  individualism  were  true,  a  man 
living  alone  on  an  island  would  enjoy  the  most  complete 
freedom,  a  conclusion  which  reduces  individualism  to 
absurdity.  A  freedom  which  turns  out  to  mean  free¬ 
dom  from  all  our  deepest  interests  can  hardly  be  distin¬ 
guished  from  slavery.  How  is  our  man  without  a  fellow 
different  from  a  man  undergoing  solitary  imprisonment? 

If  we  take  into  account  the  social  nature  of  man,  then, 
his  duties  appear  in  a  very  different  light.  The  actions 
exacted  from  him  apparently  in  the  interests  of  others 
are  in  reality  in  his  own  interests.  The  welfare  of  the 
social  organism  is  his  welfare,  its  injuries  his  injuries, 
and  its  destruction  his  destruction.  The  murderer  not 
only  sets  an  example  and  authorizes  a  practice  of  which 
he  may  be  the  next  victim;  he,  also,  whether  discovered 
or  not,  confirms  himself  in  the  isolation  which  is  harder 
than  any  other  penalty  to  bear.  The  liar,  if  he  is  found 
out,  cannot  expect  thereafter  to  have  what  he  says  be¬ 
lieved,  but  what  is  worse  for  him  is  that  he  cannot  him¬ 
self  believe  others.  A  trivial  example  may  illustrate  the 
general  principle.  We  may  consider  the  rules  of  a  game 
as  intended  to  safeguard  the  interests  of  all  playing  it,  as 
compelling  each  to  give  consideration  to  the  claims  of 
his  opponents.  On  the  individualistic  view,  I  am  re¬ 
strained  from  cheating  because  unfair  play  would  rob 
another  of  a  deserved  victory.  The  truth  is  that  a 
game  won  unfairly  is  not  won  at  all :  it  is  I  who  am  de¬ 
prived  of  the  victory,  for  I  know,  whether  others  know 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


317 


it  or  not,  that  the  outcome  did  not  reveal  the  best 
player.  Law  once  more  appears  as  the  expression  of 
my  own  will,  and  what  it  demands  of  me  is  what  I  truly 
wish  to  do. 

The  final  argument  for  collectivism  has  been  stated 
by  implication  in  what  has  gone  before.  The  individu¬ 
alist  assumes  that  every  man  knows  what  he  wants,  but 
so  far  is  this  from  the  truth  that  we  might  with  equal 
propriety  say  that  no  man  knows  what  he  wants. 
There  is  no  one  who,  looking  back  into  his  past,  cannot 
remember  desires  without  number  the  satisfaction  of 
which  he  now  thanks  heaven  was  denied  him.  The 
truth  contained  in  the  epigram,  “  There  are  two  trage¬ 
dies  in  life,  not  getting  what  one  wants,  and  getting  it; 
and  the  second  is  by  far  the  worse,”  may  be  only  a  half- 
truth,  but  the  individualist  forgets  it  entirely.  If  we 
are  capable  of  being  educated  at  all,  we  soon  learn  to  dis¬ 
tinguish  between  our  real  selves  and  our  momentary,  im¬ 
pulsive,  or  unenlightened  selves.  Few  of  us  are  so  for¬ 
tunate  as  never  to  have  had  to  say,  “I  was  not  myself 
when  I  did  that.”  What  we  think  we  want  at  any  mo¬ 
ment  is  therefore  no  index  to  our  real  needs,  and  society, 
in  compelling  us  to  forego  many  satisfactions  to  which 
we  feel  ourselves  drawn,  is  really  enforcing  the  claims  of 
our  own  enlightened  will.  This  statement  is,  indeed, 
only  a  summary  of  the  arguments  already  set  forth:  the 
social  will  is  really  our  will,  and  it  is  only  our  own  blind¬ 
ness  that  can  persuade  us  to  the  contrary. 

All  these  facts  point  to  one  conclusion.  The  individ¬ 
ual,  apart  from  the  state  of  which  he  is  a  member,  is 
nothing :  he  owes  to  the  state,  in  consequence,  his  abso¬ 
lute  and  unconditional  loyalty.  He  is  most  fully  him¬ 
self  when  he  accepts  the  duties  the  state  assigns  him, 


318 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


knowing  that  its  life  is  his,  and  that  the  hardships  it 
seems  to  impose  upon  him  are  no  more  than  every  one 
submits  to  who  restrains  the  impulses  of  the  moment  be¬ 
cause  they  conflict  with  some  greater  ultimate  good. 
Our  moral  duty  is  near  at  hand  and  unmistakable:  it 
consists  in  discharging  the  duties  of  our  station,  and 
living  in  accord  with  the  spirit  of  our  people.  Though 
every  age  and  every  nation  has  its  own  set  of  laws  and 
traditions,  and  these  are  not  all  the  same,  we  must  not 
suppose  them,  therefore,  to  be  in  error;  each  is  justified 
in  its  own  time  and  place ;  and  the  individual  cannot  do 
better  than  to  make  those  of  his  state  his  own. 

III.  AN  ATTEMPTED  SYNTHESIS  OF  THE  CONFLICTING 

views:  redefinition  and  clarification 

OF  THE  ISSUE 

This  conclusion,  so  diametrically  opposed  to  that 
reached  in  the  preceding  section,  may  seem  to  throw  us 
back  into  the  arms  of  the  skeptic.  He  appears  to  be 
right  who  says  that  where  good  and  bad  are  concerned 
there  can  be  nothing  but  opinions;  you  may  take  your 
choice,  for  no  opinion  can  be  proved.  Perhaps,  how¬ 
ever,  the  disagreement  may  not  be  so  absolute  as  our 
first  impression  suggests:  a  criticism  of  both  arguments 
may  reveal  at  least  a  measure  of  concord. 

If  we  admit  the  contention  of  the  collectivist,  that  his 
opponent  misconceived  the  nature  of  the  individual, 
falsely  opposed  the  individual's  welfare  to  the  welfare  of 
society,  and  understood  liberty,  consequently,  in  too 
narrow  a  sense,  we  may  still  hesitate  to  accept  his  con¬ 
clusion  that  no  individual  is  ever  justified  in  taking  issue 
with  the  moral  code  under  which  he  lives.  As  against 
an  individualism  which  identifies  freedom  with  the  abil- 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


319 


ity  to  disregard  others  entirely,  except  as  means  to  our 
ends,  it  must  be  admitted  that  relations  to  others  are 
part  of  the  essence  of  the  individual,  and  that  action  in 
their  interest  cannot  be  regarded  as  necessarily  involv¬ 
ing  self-sacrifice  on  his  part.  It  is  doubtless  true  also 
that  we  learn  what  we  want  only  gradually,  and  that  if 
we  had  no  society  to  instruct  us  —  partly  at  least  by 
compulsion  —  we  should  never  learn.  But  when  all 
this  is  conceded,  we  may  still  feel  reluctant  to  admit  the 
claim  that  the  world  is  always  wiser  than  any  man,  and 
entitled,  therefore,  to  demand  absolute  obedience  from 
all.  This  reluctance  may  be  defended  on  at  least  two 
grounds,  one,  furnished  by  the  answer  to  the  question 
how  far  the  state  does  actually  offer  perfect  satisfaction 
to  the  wishes  of  every  one,  provided  he  learns  to  know 
what  his  true  wishes  are ;  the  other,  furnished  by  a  con¬ 
sideration  of  the  history  of  moral  progress. 

Critics  of  the  theory  of  the  all-wise  and  all-powerful 
state  invariably  urge  that  that  theory  considers  the 
state  in  its  ideal  form;  finds  that  a  perfect  state  would 
supply  the  individual  with  opportunities  precisely  ad¬ 
justed  to  his  powers,  that  it  would  provide  him  with  bet¬ 
ter  instruments  for  the  solution  of  his  problems  than  any 
he  could  possibly  find  by  his  own  unaided  efforts;  and 
that  the  theory  then  attributes  these  qualities  to  the 
existent  state  and  claims  for  this  state  the  allegiance  due 
only  to  the  perfect  community.  A  state  in  which  perfect 
justice  and  perfect  wisdom  were  the  rule  could,  it  may 
be,  be  permitted  to  determine  absolutely  the  duties  of  its 
citizens,  reveal  to  them  their  real  will,  and  claim  their 
obedience  with  no  appeal  to  any  other  quarter.  But 
the  state  as  it  actually  exists  is  a  set  of  institutions  which 
have  gradually  developed  from  forms  that  no  one  would 


320 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


now  consider  perfect,  and  the  traces  of  this  ancestry 
have  by  no  means  disappeared.  The  position  of  woman 
in  the  family,  for  instance,  has  always  been  determined 
in  a  large  measure  by  the  fact  that  she  was  once  a  chat¬ 
tel,  a  part  of  her  husband's  possessions,  to  be  regarded 
as  permanently  and  essentially  his  inferior.  This  is  the 
status  that,  if  we  take  into  consideration  the  past  and 
by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  world  at  present,  has,  in  an 
overwhelmingly  high  degree,  been  assigned  her  by  law 
and  public  opinion.  No  doubt  in  an  ideal  marriage  the 
nominal  possession  of  authority  by  either  husband  or 
wife  would  be  a  matter  of  indifference,  since  the  desires  of 
each  would  aim  at  nothing  contrary  to  the  welfare  of  the 
other.  However,  the  conditions  with  which  we  are  con¬ 
fronted  are  real  and  not  ideal  conditions,  and  under 
them  we  are  not  justified  in  expecting  from  fallible  hu¬ 
man  beings  the  perfect  insight,  justice,  and  self-control 
that  should  be  characteristic  of  any  one  wielding  abso¬ 
lute  authority.  It  may  make  a  great  deal  of  difference 
to  a  woman  that  she  does  or  does  not  retain  title  to  her 
property  after  she  marries.  And,  in  general,  the  will  of 
the  state  is  always  exercised  through  individuals.  It  is 
only  by  a  figure  of  speech  that  we  can  talk  of  the  state's 
creating  or  regulating  institutions.  Actually,  it  is  the 
individuals  holding  office  who  pass  legislation  and  ad¬ 
minister  justice,  and  few  will  be  found  to  maintain  that 
legislatures  and  parliaments  and  their  ministers  always 
know  better  than  the  individuals  for  whom  they  legis¬ 
late  what  is  for  the  best  interests  of  those  individuals. 
When  by  the  fortunes  of  war  Alsace  and  Lorraine  were 
added  to  the  German  Empire,  it  is  not  immediately  ob¬ 
vious  that  their  inhabitants  had  no  real  will  but  to  re¬ 
nounce  their  allegiance  to  France,  or  that  in  England  in 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


321 

the  eighteenth  century,  when  theft  of  any  article  exceed¬ 
ing  five  shillings  in  value  was  punishable  by  death,  the 
criminal  who  paid  that  penalty  agreed  in  putting  so  high 
an  estimate  on  the  debt  he  owed  society. 

Similarly,  when  we  consider  the  history  of  progress  as 
a  whole,  we  find  that  everything  now  considered  an  ad¬ 
vance  was  fiercely  contested  by  law  and  public  opinion 
at  the  time  it  was  first  proposed,  and  that  he  who  ad¬ 
vances  beyond  the  moral  standards  of  his  time  is  in  the 
eyes  of  his  contemporaries  as  much  a  criminal  as  he  who 
lags  behind.  The  circumstance  already  mentioned,  that 
every  possible  pressure  is  brought  to  bear  upon  each  in¬ 
dividual,  at  the  time  when  he  is  most  susceptible  to  sug¬ 
gestion,  and  least  capable  of  criticizing  it,  to  make  him 
accept  the  moral  standards  current  in  his  community, 
justified  suspicion  of  any  blanket  endorsement  of  things 
as  they  are  in  the  moral  world.  In  general,  we  may  say 
that  the  collectivist  argument,  if  at  any  time  in  the  past 
it  had  been  accepted  in  its  entirety  and  acted  upon, 
would  at  that  moment  have  brought  progress  to  an  end. 
Every  great  advance  has  been  the  work  of  individuals 
who  entertained  beliefs  at  variance  with  the  accepted 
code  of  their  time,  and  had  the  courage  to  act  upon 
them.  Socrates  and  Jesus  are  the  stock  examples;  and 
if  any  one  chooses  to  say,  as  has  been  said,  that  the  con¬ 
servative  is  the  imitator  of  the  dead  radical,  it  is  not  al¬ 
together  clear  with  what  words  he  is  to  be  answered. 

An  individualism  which  takes  its  stand  on  the  forego¬ 
ing  considerations  thus  escapes  the  force  of  the  collecti¬ 
vist  polemic.  It  may  grant  that  freedom  is  opportunity 
to  strive  for  a  more  than  personal  end  in  an  ordered  so¬ 
cial  world,  and  at  the  same  time  contend  that  the  indi¬ 
vidual  may  not  only  select,  but  to  some  extent  create, 


322 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


the  ideals  to  which  he  yields  allegiance.  Again,  though 
he  does  not  know  at  the  start,  and  indeed  never  com¬ 
pletely  knows,  what  his  own  will  is,  and  though  society 
through  its  laws  and  institutions  does  much  to  teach 
him,  there  is  no  law  and  no  institution  which  was  not 
hammered  into  its  present  form  out  of  a  more  imperfect 
form,  no  change  which  was  not  resisted  by  the  collectiv¬ 
ists  of  an  earlier  day.  If  the  word  “tradition”  be  used 
to  cover  the  whole  heritage  of  the  past  by  which  we  are 
directed  into  fruitful  and  significant  ways  of  living,  the 
individualist  of  whom  we  are  at  present  speaking  can 
say  of  it,  as  has  been  said  of  so  many  things,  that  it  is 
a  good  servant  but  a  bad  master.  As  an  instrument 
its  value  cannot  be  overestimated,  but  its  value  is  instru¬ 
mental,  and  when  made  into  an  end  in  itself,  when  with¬ 
drawn  from  constant  criticism  and  reconstruction,  it  at 
once  becomes  an  engine  of  enslavement.  And  since 
it  is  in  response  to  the  desires  of  individuals  that  the 
testing  and  reconstruction  goes  on,  the  center  of  gravity 
remains  in  the  man  and  not  in  society. 

Section  8.  Results  of  the  Controversy 

Has  the  foregoing  controversy  brought  us  further 
than  we  were  when  we  started?  The  ethical  skeptic 
may  appear  to  have  the  last  word,  since  neither  of  the 
disputants  seems  able  thoroughly  to  prove  his  case,  nor 
have  they  advanced  to  any  third  position  upon  which 
they  are  in  complete  agreement.  Nevertheless,  a 
change  in  the  arguments  advanced  for  individualism 
and  collectivism  has  come  about  through  the  discussion. 
The  attention  of  each  party  has  been  drawn  to  values  in 
its  opponent’s  position,  and  in  a  measure  each  party  has 
tried  to  incorporate  these  values  of  its  opponent’s  view 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


323 


into  its  own  position.  Thus,  the  individualist  is  forced 
to  recognize  that  men  must  cooperate  in  order  to  live, 
and  that  individuals  are  after  all  in  large  degree  social 
products.  What  he  now  holds  out  for  is  that  certain 
kinds  of  variation  and  liberty  are  highly  desirable,  and 
he  sees  that  the  next  step  in  the  development  of  his  po¬ 
sition  is  to  make  clear  to  himself  and  to  others  what 
kinds  of  variation  and  liberty  these  are,  and  under  what 
conditions  they  can  be  best  secured.  The  collectivist, 
on  the  other  hand,  sees  that  groups  are  growing,  devel¬ 
oping  things,  not  given  as  perfect,  and  that  individual 
variation  is  in  part  the  manner  by  which  they  grow.  In 
the  light  of  this  discovery  he  will  now  be  apt  to  consider 
what  kinds  of  group  regulation  best  insure  those  values 
which  he  originally  desired  and  those  of  which  the  indi¬ 
vidualist  has  made  him  cognizant. 

From  a  consideration  of  this  instance  we  may  draw 
some  general  conclusions  as  to  the  kind  of  progress  pos¬ 
sible  through  reflection  in  ethics.  In  the  first  place,  re¬ 
flection  brings  to  our  attention  values  which  we  might 
otherwise  overlook.  Secondly,  reflection  leads  us  to  a 
better  understanding  of  ourselves,  to  a  defining  of  our 
real  aims,  a  clarification  of  our  desires.  If  we  still  find 
ourselves  in  disagreement  with  others,  it  is  nevertheless 
satisfying  to  see  more  clearly  the  reasons  why.  Plato’s 
Dialogues ,  Aristotle’s  Ethics ,  the  Hebrew  Prophets,  the 
Meditations  of  Marcus  Aurelius  are  regarded  as  great 
monuments  in  the  field  of  ethics  just  as  are  the  works  of 
Copernicus  and  Newton  and  Darwin  in  science.  These 
ethical  classics  are  in  many  ways  conflicting  in  their 
points  of  view,  and  there  is  no  method  of  detecting 
which  is  better  as  in  science.  In  calling  them  all  clas¬ 
sics  we  mean  to  recognize  more  than  their  literary  excel- 


324 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


lence,  however;  we  mean  that  each  has  thought  through 
to  its  foundations  some  genuine  desire  of  man,  express¬ 
ing  it,  therefore,  truly,  “  as  a  possession  forever.”  This 
is  the  kind  of  clarification  which  reflection  introduces 
into  ethics. 

A  third  value  which  reflection  brings  in  ethics  arises 
from  this  clarification  of  ideals.  By  banishing  vague¬ 
ness,  revealing  new  facts,  and  so  on,  it  makes  us  see 
what  problems  really  are  most  vital,  and  thus  brings  us 
nearer  to  actual  solutions.  As  in  the  example  cited,  the 
individualist  and  the  collectivist  are  both  brought  to 
realize  that  they  must  determine  what  kinds  of  individ¬ 
ual  variation  and  of  social  regulation  they  consider  ad¬ 
visable,  and  under  what  conditions. 

A  fourth  result  of  reflection  in  ethics  is  to  make  our 
conduct  more  fully  our  own,  more  voluntary  and  less  of 
a  blind  obedience  to  custom.  It  seems  more  human  to 
know  why  one  is  doing  what  he  is  doing.  When  asked 
what  good  his  philosophy  did  him,  Aristotle  is  reported 
to  have  said  that  because  of  it  he  did  voluntarily  what 
other  men  do  only  for  fear  of  the  law.  Socrates,  if  asked 
the  same  question,  might  have  answered  that,  because 
of  it  he  did  what  other  men,  for  fear  of  the  law,  dared 
not  do. 

Reflection  on  morals  may  never  lead  us  to  a  general 
agreement  on  fundamental  standards.  It  may  be 
doubted  whether  such  agreement,  if  it  could  be  reached, 
would  really  be  desirable.  But  reflection  can  at  least 
make  us  cognizant  of  ideals  different  from  our  own,  and 
this  will  lead  us  in  some  cases  to  assimilate  the  values  of 
other  positions,  thus  producing  a  greater  agreement 
among  men  than  would  otherwise  exist.  But  even 
where  this  is  not  the  case,  and  wide  differences  in  desire 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


325 


continue  to  exist,  nevertheless,  the  very  attempt  to  un¬ 
derstand  desires  different  from  one’s  own  often  provides 
a  basis  for  better  cooperation  in  matters  not  affected  by 
the  difference,  and  thus  for  living  together  with  more 
profit  and  understanding  and  happiness. 

Taking  all  these  factors  into  consideration,  we  arrive 
at  a  test  of  good  reflective  thinking  in  ethics.  From 
blind  adherence  to  a  vaguely  understood  principle,  it 
should  bring  us  to  the  voluntary  adoption  of  a  clearer 
standard,  more  intelligible  to  ourselves  and  to  others, 
including  those  who  disagree;  a  standard  based  upon  a 
consideration  of  more  facts,  and  one  which  leads  us 
more  directly  to  deal  with  the  real  problems  confront¬ 
ing  us. 

Section  4.  The  Evaluation  of  Character 

Thus  far  we  have  considered  only  reflection  upon 
standards  of  conduct.  Every  one  is  familiar  from  daily 
experience  with  the  distinction  between  character  and 
conduct,  between  what  a  man  does  and  what  he  is, 
though  there  is  no  general  agreement  as  to  the  exact  re¬ 
lation  between  the  two.  Every  one  also  agrees  that  we 
should  judge  a  man’s  character  from  a  fair  sampling  of 
his  conduct,  but  people  differ  in  their  ideas  as  to  what 
such  a  fair  sampling  would  be.  Some  think  that  we 
should  give  chief  weight,  if  not  exclusive  weight,  to  his 
motives,  to  what  he  wants  to  accomplish,  and  the  spirit 
with  which  he  attempts  it,  since  what  he  actually  does 
accomplish  depends  so  much  on  circumstances  outside  of 
his  control.  “  There  is  nothing  absolutely  good  in  the 
world,”  writes  Kant,  “save  a  good  will.”  On  the  other 
hand,  it  is  urged  that  efficiency  and  capacity  are  virtues 
which  must  be  counted  in  estimating  character,  so  that 


326 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


it  is  not  only  a  man’s  motives,  but  also  his  success,  which 
must  be  measured. 

Without  undertaking  to  settle  these  disputes,  we  may 
distinguish  three  different  kinds  of  character  evalu¬ 
ation,  which  are  supplementary  rather  than  mutually 
exclusive.  Each  is  designed  to  serve  a  different  pur¬ 
pose,  and  the  results  of  all  three  would  have  to  be  con¬ 
sidered  in  forming  a  total  estimate  of  any  one’s  entire 
character.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  the  judging  of  a 
person’s  spirit,  his  motives  and  intentions,  his  sensitiv¬ 
ity,  the  fineness  of  his  feelings,  and  so  on.  These  things 
are  revealed  in  considerable  measure  through  a  person’s 
outward  acts,  but  never  entirely  so.  We  say  we  know 
a  person  well  or  intimately  when  we  are  able  to  sense 
these  inward  factors  immediately  in  a  rather  subtle,  in¬ 
tuitive  fashion.  Of  very  different  sort  is  the  appraisal 
of  a  person’s  fitness  to  perform  certain  specific  func¬ 
tions.  Here  objective  measurement  is  often  possible  if 
we  can  define  the  function  exactly  enough  and  devise  a 
test  that  gauges  just  those  qualities  demanded  by  this 
function.  The  tests  devised  during  the  World  War 
to  measure  potential  aviators  were  tests  of  this  kind. 
Finally,  there  is  a  kind  of  character  evaluation  which 
attempts  to  estimate  the  whole  person  taking  into  con¬ 
sideration  all  factors.  This  is  of  all  kinds  the  most 
difficult,  for  the  thing  to  be  measured  is  very  complex, 
containing  factors  incommensurable  with  each  other, 
and  the  standard  by  which  we  measure,  our  conception 
of  what  the  person  ought  to  be,  is  apt  to  be  either  very 
arbitrary  or  else  indefinite  and  vague. 

All  manner  of  difficult  problems  arise  out  of  this  at¬ 
tempt  to  evaluate  human  character.  To  what  common 
standards  should  every  person  in  a  given  group  be  held, 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


327 


and  in  what  respects  is  the  ideal  self,  if  there  be  such  a 
thing,  unique  for  every  individual?  Furthermore,  sup¬ 
pose  that  some  individuals  are  vile  and  evil  in  our  eyes, 
entirely  unsatisfactory  when  measured  by  our  notions 
of  human  excellence,  do  we  not,  in  spite  of  this,  recog¬ 
nize  some  worth  in  them  by  virtue  of  their  very  human¬ 
ity?  What  kind  of  worth  is  this? 

These  are  some  of  the  more  ultimate  problems  in  eth¬ 
ical  philosophy  which  cannot  be  treated  here. 

Section  5 .  The  Practical  Aim  of  Ethics 

Reflection  in  ethics  is  intended  to  secure,  not  merely 
the  knowledge  of  what  is  good,  but  rather  the  increased 
practice  of  it,  the  actual  living  well.  In  this  endeavor 
the  clarification  and  improvement  of  ideals,  which  we 
have  been  discussing  in  this  chapter,  is  only  one  factor. 
What  people  do  badly  they  do  badly  not  only  because 
their  standards  are  poor,  but  perhaps  even  more  fre¬ 
quently  because  they  do  not  know  how  to  live  up  to 
their  standards.  To  know  wherein  efficiency  and  kind¬ 
ness  consist  does  not  prevent  us  from  becoming  tired 
and  irritable. 

Persistent  failure  to  achieve  a  standard  may  raise 
two  questions.  Is  the  standard  a  good  one?  How 
might  one  realize  it?  These  two  questions  are  not  un¬ 
related.  Some  people  hold  that  standards  are  proved 
bad  if  the  conditions  for  their  realization  cannot  be  de¬ 
vised.  The  really  good  must  be  an  actually  attainable 
good.  Not  so,  say  others.  If  an  end,  e.g.,  immortality, 
is  good,  it  is  no  less  good  for  being  perhaps  impossible. 

However  wide  and  full  of  consequences  this  disagree¬ 
ment  on  the  nature  of  standards  may  be,  both  dispu¬ 
tants  are  likely  to  agree  that  human  morality  has  suf- 


328 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


fered  from  an  excess  of  condemnations  and  approvals, 
coupled  with  a  lack  of  practical  invention.  It  is  much 
easier  to  blame  a  person  for  falling  short  of  a  certain 
standard  than  to  suggest  how  he  might  have  attained  it. 
And  the  actual  attaining  may  be  harder  still.  If  ethics 
is  taken  seriously  as  concerned  with  the  actual  improve¬ 
ment  of  life,  it  will  be  no  isolated  inquiry  into  standards 
merely,  but  reflection  will  pass  from  it  into  other  de¬ 
partments  of  knowledge,  into  psychology,  and  politics, 
and  economics,  and  the  natural  sciences,  gathering  from 
the  whole  realm  of  man’s  experience  the  materials  for 
his  happiness. 


QUESTIONS  AND  EXERCISES 

1.  In  what  way  does  the  training  in  morals  provided  for  the  young 
differ  from  the  corresponding  education  in  science  or  literature? 
What  consequences  result  from  this  difference? 

2.  The  moral  life,  on  any  view,  involves  self-denial.  What  is  the 
justification  alleged  for  this  self-denial  (a)  by  the  individualist,  (b) 
by  the  collectivist? 

3.  The  individualist  contends  that  constraint  causes  loss  of  individu¬ 
ality.  (a)  If  this  is  understood  to  mean  that  those  who  are  re¬ 
sponsive  to  the  control  of  tradition  tend  to  be  cast  in  a  stereotyped 
mold  —  do  you  think  that  the  facts  bear  out  the  statement?  (b) 
Do  the  “conventions”  in  auction  bridge  diminish  or  increase  the 
freedom  of  the  player  who  observes  them? 

4.  Under  what  circumstances  is  “the  man  versus  the  state”  a  real 
issue? 

5.  In  the  course  of  the  argument  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  the  transi¬ 
tion  has  been  given  from  an  extreme  individualistic  to  an  extreme 
collectivistic  position,  and  thence  to  one  intended  as  a  compromise 
between  the  two.  In  the  course  of  the  argument,  how  have  the 
following  terms  altered  in  meaning:  (a)  the  individual,  (b)  the  state 
or  society,  (c)  the  other  members  of  society,  (d)  freedom? 

6.  What  is  meant  by  an  ideal  or  ultimate  standard  of  conduct?  De¬ 
scribe  three  such  ideals  which  are  held  to-day. 

7.  Show  how  each  of  these  ideals  would  affect  the  solution  of  some 
specific  moral  problem* 

8.  What  are  the  uses  and  limitations  of  reflection  in  evaluation? 
Illustrate  by  reference  to  the  problem  discussed  above. 


REFLECTION  IN  ETHICS 


329 


9.  How  is  the  evaluation  of  conduct  related  to  the  evaluation  of 
character? 

10.  Give  an  example  of  failure  to  solve  a  moral  problem  due  to  in¬ 
adequate  ideals,  and  one  where  it  is  due  to  failure  to  live  up  to  an 
ideal.  How  might  each  kind  of  deficiency  be  corrected? 

11.  How  can  conflicts  between  people  as  to  ultimate  ideals  be  resolved? 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

F.  Adler:  An  Ethical  Philosophy  of  Life.  New  York:  Appleton,  1918. 
Aristotle:  Ethics.  Welldon  translation.  Macmillan  Co. 

E.  Barker:  Political  Thought  from  Spencer  to  Today.  New  York:  Henry 
Holt  &  Co.,  1915. 

B.  Bosanquet:  The  Philosophical  Theory  of  the  State,  2d  ed.  London: 
Macmillan  and  Co.,  1910. 

F.  H.  Bradley:  Ethical  Studies  (chapter  on  “  My  Station  and  its  Duties”). 
London:  King  and  Co.,  1876. 

Lord  Hugh  Cecil:  Liberty  and  Authority.  London:  Edward  Arnold, 
1910. 

Dewey  and  Tufts:  Ethics.  New  York:  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1908. 

J.  Dewey:  Human  Nature  and  Conduct.  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1922. 

G.  L.  Dickinson:  Justice  and  Liberty.  London:  J.  M.  Paul  &  Co.,  1919. 
W.  Fite:  Individualism.  New  York:  Longmans,  Green  &  Co.,  1916. 

L.  T.  Hobhouse:  The  Metaphysical  Theory  of  the  State.  London:  George 
Allen  and  Unwin  Ltd.,  1918. 

J.  S.  Mill:  On  Liberty.  London:  Longmans,  1871.  Also  in  “Every¬ 
man's  Library.” 

Utilitarianism.  Everyman’s  Library. 

H.  Rashdall :  Ethics.  The  People’s  Books.  New  York:  Dodge  &  Go. 
J.  Royce:  Philosophy  of  Loyalty.  Macmillan  Co.,  1908. 

B.  Russell:  Why  Men  Fight.  New  York:  The  Century  Co.,  1917. 

Political  Ideals.  New  York:  The  Century  Co.,  1917. 

H.  Spencer:  The  Man  versus  the  State.  London:  Watts  and  Co.,  1909. 

J.  F.  Stephen:  Liberty ,  Equality ,  Fraternity.  New  York:  Holt  and  Wil¬ 
liams,  1873. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SUMMARY 

Section  1 .  The  Modern  Consciousness  of  Science 

Most  of  us  who  live  in  the  civilized  nations  of  to-day 
know  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  science.  We  are  very 
conscious,  indeed,  of  its  great  practical  achievements  in 
the  cure  of  disease,  and  in  creating  those  instruments  of 
commerce  and  industry  which  chiefly  distinguish  mod¬ 
ern  life  from  the  life  of  earlier  times.  It  is  not  only  the 
fruits  of  science,  however,  of  which  we  are  aware,  but 
also,  in  some  degree,  of  the  knowledge  underlying  these 
fruits.  We  are  conscious  of  possessing  much  informa¬ 
tion,  and  a  power  of  acquiring  more,  that  was  unknown 
to  other  ages.  These  possessions  are  an  occasion  of  no 
small  pride  to  us. 

A  distinction  between  ignorance  and  knowledge,  the 
same  pride  in  learning,  appears  in  the  literature  of  all 
times  and  peoples.  But  it  may  be  doubted  whether  any 
people,  save  perhaps  the  ancient  Greeks,  were  as  con¬ 
scious  of  the  possession  of  science  as  we  are  to-day. 
This  does  not  mean,  however,  that  we  understand  the 
nature  of  our  possession,  what  knowledge  is,  how  best  to 
acquire  and  to  test  it.  Every  schoolboy  knows  that  the 
earth  goes  round  the  sun,  and  he  looks  upon  the  Ptole¬ 
maic  theory  as  superstition ;  but  how  many  of  our  adult 
men  and  women  could  give  adequate  reasons  for  believ¬ 
ing  the  Copernican  hypothesis? 

The  purpose  of  this  book  is  to  help  in  adding  another 
dimension  to  our  consciousness  of  science,  namely,  an 
understanding  of  its  processes.  If  this  purpose  could  be 


SUMMARY 


331 


accomplished,  we  should  be  much  enriched  spiritually. 
We  should  see  man  and  the  world  in  a  clearer,  fuller 
light.  We  should  also  be  more  critical  of  whatever  is  re¬ 
ported  to  us,  and  better  prepared  to  add  to  our  fund  of 
tested  knowledge. 

Section  2.  How  are  Beliefs  to  be  Tested  f 

In  the  first  chapter  of  this  Introduction  to  Reflective 
Thinking  we  distinguished  such  thinking  from  several 
other  types.  We  contrasted  it  with  the  random  flow  of 
ideas  through  the  mind,  with  the  thinking  involved  in 
imaginative  constructions  that  are  not  intended  for  be¬ 
lief,  and  with  the  uncritical  acceptance  of  beliefs.  By 
means  of  these  contrasts  certain  characteristics  of  re¬ 
flective  thinking  became  manifest,  and  we  realized  that 
we  must  look  for  these  characteristics  if  we  would  test 
whether  any  act  of  thought  was  reflective  or  not. 

But,  furthermore,  it  appeared  that  within  the  limits 
of  reflective  thinking  we  might  also  distinguish  a  better 
and  a  worse.  Though  the  whole  enterprise  of  science 
is  reflective,  we  can  recognize  a  progress  in  it.  Ptole¬ 
my’s  hypothesis  was  certainly  a  product  of  reflective 
thinking.  Yet  that  of  Copernicus  was  better.  Thus  it 
seemed  as  if  we  could  get  further  light  upon  the  tests  of 
thought  by  considering  some  instances  in  which  old  be¬ 
liefs  had  given  place  to  new  considered  better. 

Our  method  may  be  clarified  by  using  an  analogy. 
Suppose  our  problem  were  to  find  the  best  of  airplane 
motors.  We  might  begin  by  eliminating  from  consid¬ 
eration  such  motors  as  were  obviously  unadapted  for 
aerial  navigation.  The  remaining  motors  would  then  be 
carefully  compared  in  such  respects  as  weight  and  speed 
and  power.  The  one  selected  as  the  best,  by  means  of 


332 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


these  comparisons,  might  be  surpassed  at  any  later  time 
by  one  still  better. 

Just  so,  in  testing  thought,  we  can  begin  by  separat¬ 
ing  that  which  is  obviously  uncritical  and  unreflective 
from  that  which  is  not.  Then  the  remaining  beliefs,  for 
which  there  seems  to  be  some  critical,  reflective  founda¬ 
tion,  must  be  compared  with  each  other,  and  tested. 
The  belief  thus  selected  as  the  best  is  not  necessarily  the 
very  best  possible  belief  on  the  subject,  but  simply  the 
best  we  have.  Sometimes  we  must  make  use  of  hy¬ 
potheses  for  which  there  is  no  great  evidence,  simply 
because  no  one  has  suggested  anything  better. 

Some  people  are  intellectually  demoralized  by  the 
spectacle  of  scientific  progress.  If  beliefs,  apparently 
well  founded,  give  place  to  new,  is  there  anything  cer¬ 
tain?  Perhaps  not;  but  is  that  an  adequate  reason  for 
abandoning  the  best  tests  we  have  to  distinguish  be¬ 
tween  better  and  worse  beliefs?  It  is  not  enough  for 
the  critic  of  reflective  thinking  to  show  that  no  certain¬ 
ties  are  established  thereby;  he  must  suggest  a  better 
methodology.  The  fact  that  serious  questions  can  be 
raised  against  the  proof  of  every  statement  does  not 
mean  that  every  statement  is  of  equal  value.  Of 
course,  the  thoroughgoing  philosophic  skeptic  will  reply 
that  to  challenge  him  for  a  better  methodology  is  to  beg 
the  question.  How  can  one  speak  of  a  better  when  none 
are  any  good?  Why  seek  a  better  lifeboat  to  drown  in? 
The  only  answer  to  this  position  seems  to  be  to  show 
the  skeptic  that  in  simple,  practical  affairs  he  acts  upon 
a  distinction  between  better  and  worse  thinking,  which 
he  disavows  in  argument.  If  reason  and  experience  are 
useful  in  choosing  a  cigar,  perhaps  we  can  trust  them 
in  choosing  a  moral  ideal. 


SUMMARY 


333 


Section  3 .  The  Tests  of  Thought 

The  real  question  is  not  whether  reflection  has  any 
value,  it  is  the  question  of  how  it  can  be  made  most 
valuable,  and  this  is  a  question  concerning  the  con¬ 
crete  tests  to  which  it  can  be  put  in  specific  situations. 
In  comparing  airplane  motors,  for  instance,  to  deter¬ 
mine  which  is  best,  we  must  know  what  features  to  look 
for.  Our  conclusions  may  be  wrong,  not  only  because 
of  error  in  applying  some  test,  but  also  because  of  failure 
to  apply  all  relevant  tests.  There  may  be  some  quality 
essential  to  a  good  motor  of  which  we  are  not  aware. 

Likewise  in  comparing  beliefs  we  must  endeavor  to 
test  all  qualities  with  respect  to  which  one  belief  may  be 
said  to  be  better  than  another.  Now  there  has  never 
been  perfect  agreement  as  to  just  what  qualities  are  to 
be  included  in  this  category.  Most  people  will  agree 
that  clarity  and  intelligibility  are  desirable  qualities  in 
thought,  and  that  in  testing  our  beliefs  we  should  de¬ 
termine  whether  they  possess  these  qualities.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  is  great  disagreement  as  to  whether 
such  a  quality  as  personal  preference  for  a  belief  should 
be  considered  in  attempting  to  measure  its  value,  apart 
from  the  reasons  for  which  it  is  preferred.  In  a  field  like 
astronomy  the  power  of  certain  ideas  to  enlist  personal 
affections  of  this  sort  would  seem  irrelevant  to  most  of 
us.  But  would  it  in  the  field  of  ethics? 

Some  philosophers,  like  Aristotle,  have  given  system¬ 
atic  accounts  of  tests  which  may  be  applied  to  determine 
the  validity  of  beliefs.  These  accounts  constitute  that 
branch  of  philosophy  which  is  usually  called  logic.  By 
some,  logic  is  regarded  as  a  completed  science;  that  is, 
they  believe  all  the  tests  of  thought  have  been  discov- 


334 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


ered.  We  shall  not  inquire  into  this  question,  but  shall 
content  ourselves  with  recalling  those  important  tests 
upon  which  nearly  all  logicians  are  agreed,  and  which 
are  amply  illustrated  in  the  examples  of  reflective  think¬ 
ing  discussed  in  this  book.  They  are  as  follows : 

1.  Clarity.  A  good  belief  is  unambiguous.  We  know  un¬ 
mistakably  what  ifc  means. 

2.  Consistency  with  the  facts.  A  good  belief  is  founded  on 
extensive  and  accurate  observation.  It  is  not  contra¬ 
dicted  by  experience. 

3.  Consistency  with  other  beliefs.  There  is  a  presumption 
against  a  belief  that  conflicts  with  other  beliefs  well 
certified  by  experience.  Sometimes,  however,  it  is  the 
latter  beliefs  rather  than  the  former  that  need  to  be  re¬ 
vised. 

4.  Utility.  A  good  belief  is  often  distinguished  by  its  use¬ 
fulness  in  suggesting  further  good  beliefs. 

5.  Simplicity .  Other  things  being  equal,  that  belief  is  best 
which  makes  fewest  assumptions. 

Section  I+.  The  Influence  of  Subject-Matter  upon  the 

Tests  of  Thought 

The  use  of  the  above-mentioned  tests  of  thought  is  not 

* 

confined  to  any  particular  subject-matter;  we  can  test 
reflection  in  any  field  by  these  criteria.  But  the  mean¬ 
ing  of  these  criteria  is  not  exactly  the  same  in  every 
field,  it  varies  with  the  nature  of  the  subject-matter.  For 
example,  we  may  speak  both  of  an  astronomical  law  and 
of  a  child  labor  law  as  being  in  agreement  or  in  conso¬ 
nance  with  the  facts  of  experience,  but  not  the  same 
kind  of  agreement  will  be  meant.  In  astronomy  we  mean 
that  the  law  correctly  describes  a  relation  obtaining  be¬ 
tween  certain  phenomena;  in  legislation  we  mean  that 
considering  the  facts  of  the  situation  the  law  is  likely  to 
achieve  the  desired  result. 


SUMMARY 


335 


We  cannot  understand  what  the  criteria  of  good  re¬ 
flective  thinking  really  mean  unless  we  consider  them  in 
connection  with  the  subject-matter  in  which  they  are 
employed.  Also,  it  appears  that  the  relative  impor¬ 
tance  of  these  criteria  is  different  in  different  fields.  In 
a  mathematical  system  the  consistency  of  one  belief 
with  another  is  more  important  than  in  a  penal  code. 

Clarity ,  unambiguity,  is  a  quality  to  be  desired  of 
thought  in  all  fields,  and  its  meaning  also  is  the  same  in 
all.  Whatever  the  content  of  a  statement  may  be, 
whether  it  be  mathematical,  historical,  or  juridical,  we 
want  that  content  to  be  understood  exactly  as  we  mean 
it.  This  is  essential.  One  reason  why  mathematics  is 
such  an  important  and  universal  instrument  of  thought 
is  because  of  this  universal  importance  of  clarity.  To 
express  an  idea  in  mathematical  terms  is  the  most  exact 
and  unambiguous  way  of  expressing  it.  If  we  say  that 
A  is  fairly  good  in  arithmetic,  no  one  knows  what  is 
meant,  except  in  a  very  vague  way.  But  if  we  can  say 
that  A’s  rating  on  a  standardized  arithmetical  test  is  79, 
we  get  much  more  definite  information. 

Consistency  with  the  facts  is  also  essential  to  reflective 
thinking  in  all  fields  —  with  possibly  one  exception,  in 
the  case  of  systems  designed  to  develop  the  implications 
of  definitions  rather  than  to  describe  facts.  We  may 
construct  a  system  of  propositions,  each  consistent  with 
the  others,  but  having  no  essential  relation  to  observed 
facts.  Mathematics  is  regarded  by  many  as  a  creation 
of  this  kind.  Its  astounding  usefulness,  its  almost  uni¬ 
versal  applicability,  is  not  intrinsic  to  it,  but  accidental. 
“If  mathematics  has  been  the  beacon  light  of  the  sci¬ 
ences,  it  is  not  the  fault  of  mathematicians/’  says  one  of 
them.  The  mathematician  is  concerned  to  work  out 


336 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


the  relationships  between  certain  ideal  entities  that  hap¬ 
pen  to  interest  him.  If  these  relationships  are  found  to 
correspond  to  relationships  existing  outside  the  purely 
mathematical  realm,  in  the  realm  of  physical  objects,  for 
example,  the  findings  of  the  mathematician  can  be  car¬ 
ried  over  into  that  field,  but  the  correspondence  which 
makes  this  possible  was  not  deliberately  sought  by  him. 

There  are  some  dissenters  from  this  view  of  mathe¬ 
matics.  They  fall  into  two  classes.  First,  those  who  in¬ 
sist  that  the  mathematician  does  keep  one  eye  on  the 
physical  world,  and  that  his  definitions,  axioms,  and 
postulates  are  intentionally  relevant  to  what  he  sees 
there.  A  second  group  holds  that,  even  if  the  mathema¬ 
tician  keeps  both  eyes  shut  to  the  physical  world,  he  is 
nevertheless  compelled  by  the  inner  nature  of  his  being 
to  think  in  terms  appropriate  to  that  world.  A  case 
can,  therefore,  be  made  on  either  of  these  grounds  for 
believing  that  mathematics  is  really  no  exception  to  the 
general  rule  that  reflective  thinking  may  be  tested  by 
its  consistency  with  fact. 

Certainly  this  is  the  test,  if  any  is,  in  all  other  fields. 
But  by  consistency  with  fact  we  do  not  always  mean 
the  same  thing.  If  a  belief  purports  to  describe  a  situa¬ 
tion,  we  say  it  is  consistent  with  the  facts  if  no  signifi¬ 
cant  element  in  that  situation  is  overlooked  or  wrongly 
described.  On  the  other  hand,  if  a  belief  is  intended  to 
explain  a  situation  —  as,  for  example,  the  molecular 
theory  is  intended  to  explain  heat  and  certain  other  phe¬ 
nomena  —  then  we  mean  by  consistency  with  fact  a 
very  different  thing.  We  mean  that  the  belief  seizes 
upon  a  certain  fact  that  accounts  for  the  phenomena  to 
be  explained,  makes  their  behavior  intelligible  upon  a 
single  principle,  makes  them  predictable,  and  some- 


SUMMARY 


337 


times  controllable.  Again  consistency  with  fact  has  a 
third  meaning  when  used  of  a  belief  that  is  intended 
neither  to  describe,  nor  to  explain,  but  rather  to  guide 
conduct.  A  labor  law  or  a  practical  idea  may  be  said  to 
be  in  agreement  with  facts  if  it  accurately  expresses 
existent  desires  and  proves  efficacious  in  their  realiza¬ 
tion.  Thus,  the  meaning  of  this  important  test,  con-  ' 
sistency  with  the  facts,  depends  on  whether  we  are  test¬ 
ing  a  description,  an  explanation,  or  a  rule  of  action. 

Consistency  with  other  beliefs  also  has  various  mean¬ 
ings.  It  may  mean  a  relation  of  implication,  such  that 
one  belief  cannot  be  true  without  another’s  being  true. 

In  some  instances,  this  kind  of  consistency  is  demanded. 
For  example,  A  and  B  cannot  be  brothers  unless  they  are 
children  of  the  same  parents.  A  second  kind  of  consist¬ 
ency  between  beliefs  may  be  described  as  compatibility 
without  implication.  As  far  as  we  know,  the  atomic 
theory  of  matter  implies  neither  the  truth  nor  the  falsity 
of  the  theory  of  evolution.  Each  may  be  held  without  the 
other,  and  both  may  be  held  together;  the  evidence  for 
each  is  different  without  being  conflicting.  Some  phi¬ 
losophers  hold  that,  if  our  knowledge  of  the  universe 
could  be  made  complete,  all  true  propositions  would  be 
shown  to  imply  each  other.  Whatever  position  we  may 
take  on  this  question,  most  of  us  will  probably  agree  at 
least  that  true  propositions  will  not  contradict  each 
other. 

We  can  tell  by  an  analysis  of  their  meaning  whether 
propositions  imply  each  other  or  contradict  each  other. 
Logicians  have  devised  ingenious  tables  showing  how 
one  statement  qualifies  others.  But  implication  and 
compatibility  are  not  the  only  senses  in  which  we  speak 
of  consistency  between  beliefs.  Sometimes  we  mean 


338 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


not  that  one  belief  implies  another,  or  that  it  is  merely 
compatible  with  another,  but  rather  that  one  belief  in¬ 
creases  the  probability  that  another  belief  is  true.  Thus, 
for  example,  the  belief  that  the  earth  is  much  more  than 
six  thousand  years  old  does  not  imply  the  theory  of  evo¬ 
lution.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  something  more  than 
compatible  with  that  theory;  it  increases  the  value  of 
the  evidence  for  it  by  making  the  explanations  of  evolu¬ 
tion  more  feasible. 

Finally,  there  is  a  sense  in  which  consistency  between 
beliefs  means  only  that  it  is  psychologically  possible  for 
the  same  person  to  hold  the  various  beliefs  in  question. 
For  instance,  it  is  possible  for  the  same  person  to  believe 
that  clemency  is  good,  and  yet  also  bad,  at  least  some¬ 
times.  Of  course,  there  may  be  no  logical  conflict  be¬ 
tween  these  two  views,  since  the  instances  in  which 
clemency  is  believed  to  be  good  may  be  a  different  set 
from  those  in  which  it  is  regarded  bad.  But  if  the  in¬ 
dividual  can  give  no  criterion  for  distinguishing  clearly 
these  two  sets  of  instances,  he  is  obliged  to  carry  two  ap¬ 
parently  conflicting  beliefs.  Furthermore,  the  conflict 
is  intensified  if,  as  sometimes  happens,  he  regards  clem¬ 
ency  as  both  good  and  bad  in  the  same  instance,  but  is 
unable  to  decide  whether  the  respects  in  which  it  is  good 
outweigh  those  in  which  it  is  bad,  or  vice  versa.  Some 
people  would  say  that  the  psychological  possibility  of 
holding  two  beliefs  is  not  at  all  what  is  meant  when  we 
use  the  consistency  of  beliefs  with  each  other  as  a  test  of 
their  validity.  If  logical  compatibility  does  not  obtain 
between  the  beliefs,  the  fact  that  they  could  be  held  by 
one  person  would  indicate  that  he  had  a  poor  mind,  or 
that  he  had  not  solved  his  problem,  rather  than  that  the 
beliefs  are  both  valid.  So  says  one  group.  Others, 


SUMMARY 


339 


however,  think  that  in  certain  fields  equally  valid  judg¬ 
ments  may  conflict.  We  may  condemn  and  praise  a 
piece  of  music  for  being  sentimental.  In  cases  like  this 
the  only  kind  of  consistency  which  can  be  demanded  be¬ 
tween  several  judgments  is  the  psychological  possibility 
of  holding  them  all.  It  is  probably  true,  however,  that 
psychological  consistency  of  this  kind  is  more  frequently 
abused  to  the  detriment  of  science,  than  wisely  used  to 
its  benefit. 

The  kind  of  consistency  which  is  appropriate  be¬ 
tween  beliefs  depends  upon  the  nature  of  the  subject- 
matter  and  the  problem.  Implication,  the  strictest 
form  of  consistency,  plays  most  part  in  mathematical 
systems,  but  it  appears  in  all  fields.  In  the  natural 
sciences  we  have  a  network  of  beliefs  which  are  all  com¬ 
patible  with  each  other,  as  far  as  we  know,  and  which  in 
many  cases  lend  support  to  each  other.  Thus  the  more 
general  hypotheses,  like  the  theory  of  evolution,  are 
supported  by  evidence  accumulated  from  many  diverse 
fields,  and  giving  rise  to  a  group  of  beliefs  pointing  in 
the  direction  of  evolution.  In  jurisprudence,  in  morals, 
in  aesthetics,  in  all  fields  involving  evaluation,  we  have 
these  three  types  of  consistency  among  the  most  tested 
beliefs.  But  in  these  fields  we  also  admit  as  valid  some 
judgments  which  may  seem  inconsistent  with  others: 
that  is,  the  only  kind  of  consistency  we  require  of  them 
is  that  we  should  be  psychologically  able  to  accept  them 
along  with  the  conflicting  judgments.  The  reason  for 
this  is  that  in  these  fields  the  primary  demand  which  we 
make  of  our  beliefs  is  that  they  be  consistent  with  our  de¬ 
sires,  and  our  desires  are  proverbially  inconsistent  and 
conflicting  with  each  other. 

By  the  utility  of  a  belief  is  meant  the  opportunity 


340 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


which  it  affords  of  predicting  further  facts,  either  be¬ 
cause  they  are  actually  implied  in  it,  or  because  they  are 
made  probable  by  it,  or  simply  because  they  are  sug¬ 
gested  by  it.  In  this  connection  we  should  remember 
that  a  belief  need  not  be  well  substantiated  itself  in  or¬ 
der  to  suggest  what  may  prove  to  be  positive  facts  or 
good  hypotheses.  False  beliefs  have  often  been  useful 
in  stimulating  scientific  imagination.  The  mechanism 
of  suggestion  (if  there  is  such  a  mechanism)  is  still  the 
most  mysterious  and  least  understood  of  all  things. 
Often  we  cannot  produce  the  most  appropriate  ideas  at 
will,  and  the  order  in  which  we  do  think  seems  to  have 
no  very  discernible  pattern.  This  accounts  in  part  for 
the  large  give-and-take  between  all  fields  of  knowledge. 
An  idea  developed  in  connection  with  one  subject- 
matter  may  strike  in  and  prove  useful  almost  anywhere 
else.  The  interdependence  of  sciences  has  been  abun¬ 
dantly  illustrated  by  even  the  few  problems  discussed 
in  this  book. 

Simplicity  as  a  test  of  belief  is  frequently  misunder¬ 
stood.  Ease  or  facility  in  using  the  belief  is  not  what  is 
meant.  A  “  simpler  ”  hypothesis  may  involve  more  dif¬ 
ficult  mathematical  calculations  than  one  more  “com¬ 
plex.”  Neither  do  we  mean  by  simplicity  that  the  be¬ 
lief  can  be  easily  understood.  The  world  described  by 
modem  science  is  far  more  difficult  to  understand  than 
the  world  pictured  in  popular  superstition.  By  simplic¬ 
ity  is  meant  making  few  assumptions,  taking  few  things 
for  granted.  Other  things  being  equal,  such  as  consist¬ 
ency  with  observed  facts,  etc.,  that  belief  is  best  which 
requires  us  to  make  the  fewest  suppositions. 

This  principle  of  parsimony,  as  it  is  called,  used  to  be 
expressed  as  late  as  Newton’s  time  by  saying  that  “na- 


SUMMARY 


341 


ture  always  takes  the  simplest  course/’  or  words  to  that 
effect.  Nowadays  philosophers  usually  prefer  to  regard 
parsimony  as  a  principle  of  science  rather  than  of  na¬ 
ture.  F or  is  it  not  possible  that  our  best  accounts  of  the 
universe  are  simplifications  of  what  actually  takes  place 
there?  Might  not  nature  take  a  very  complicated 
course  to  produce  phenomena  which  we  interpret  on  the 
basis  of  a  few  meager  ideas  —  especially  since  our  ob¬ 
servations  may  omit  very  much? 

Section  5.  Some  Ultimate  Problems  Concerning 

Knowledge 

Ultimate  questions  of  this  sort  keep  coming  up  at  fre¬ 
quent  points  in  our  study  of  reflective  thinking.  A  list 
of  such  questions,  raised  by  the  material  in  this  book, 
would  include  the  following: 

1.  What  justification  have  we  for  basing  general  laws  on 
the  observation  of  particular  instances?  (See  Chapter 
IV,  p.  94.) 

2.  What  is  the  relation  between  mathematical  truths  and 
objects  observed  with  the  aid  of  the  senses?  (See  Chap¬ 
ter  V,  p.  112.) 

3.  Is  the  principle  of  parsimony  simply  a  convenience  to 
man,  or  is  it  a  law  of  nature?  (See  Chapter  III,  p.  53.) 

4.  In  what  respects  do  the  methods  of  evaluation  resemble 
those  of  the  natural  sciences,  and  in  what  respects  are 
they  different?  (See  Chapter  IX,  pp.  230-237.) 

5.  What  sanction  have  the  tests  which  we  apply  to  reflec¬ 
tive  thinking?  Are  all  the  tests  known?  What  are 
they?  (See  Chapter  XIII,  pp.  332-334.) 

6.  Some  sense-images  are  discovered  to  be  illusory.  Does 
this  fact  cast  doubt  upon  the  validity  of  all  sense-data?1 

1  This  problem  has  not  been  explicitly  raised  in  any  of  our  chapters, 
but  it  belongs  to  this  group  of  ultimate  questions.  See  Descartes,  Medi¬ 
tations,  pp.  147-49. 


342 


REFLECTIVE  THINKING 


Questions  like  these  as  to  the  nature  of  knowledge  it¬ 
self,  its  objects,  its  extent,  and  validity,  have  perplexed 
mankind  for  ages  without  ever  having  been  answered  to 
the  satisfaction  of  every  one.  Men  who  agree  in  using 
the  reflective  methods  studied  in  this  book  do  not  agree 
in  their  answers  to  such  ultimate  questions  concerning 
these  methods.  Philosophy  on  its  methodological  side, 
in  logic  and  epistemology,  is  concerned  with  these  ques¬ 
tions. 

The  praise  of  philosophy,  as  a  necessary  basis  for 
reflective  thinking,  is  a  theme  on  which  philosophers 
like  to  end  their  books.  But  Plato  admonishes  us  of  a 
better  way.  In  his  Republic  he  describes  the  philos¬ 
opher  dazzled  by  a  splendid  vision  of  the  highest  knowl¬ 
edge.  Yet  afterward  he  is  reminded  of  the  actual  state 
of  ignorance  among  mankind.  How  weak  and  power¬ 
less  every  mere  account  of  science  seems  in  overcoming 
the  tremendous  difficulties  that  stand  in  the  way  of 
widespread  and  thorough  reflective  thinking!  Can  talk 
convey  an  adequate  impression  to  the  average  man  of 
what  it  means  really  to  test  a  single  dubious  fact?  Can 
the  best  of  lectures  furnish  compasses  to  guide  us 
through  the  clouds  of  opinions  by  which  we  are  so 
thickly  enveloped  in  these  days?  No,  practice  in  abun¬ 
dance  must  be  added.  “It  is  only  by  doing  just  acts 
that  we  become  just,”  says  Aristotle,  and  likewise  only 
by  practice  in  reflection  can  we  become  reflective. 


INDEX 


Accomplishment,  chart  showing 
range  of,  256. 

Adams,  computations  in  discovery 
of  Neptune,  59. 

Almagest ,  explanations  of,  40-42. 

Analogy,  explanation  by,  119-123. 

Anatomy,  comparative,  facts  of  in¬ 
telligible  under  evolutionary  the- 
.  ory,  170. 

Anthropocentism,  definition  of,  176. 

Anthropomorphism,  effect  of  on 
biological  belief,  175. 

A  priori  reasoning,  in  support  of 
traditional  view  of  Old  Testament, 
205-209. 

Aristotle,  solar  theory  compared  with 
Ptolemy’s,  43,  44;  possible  uses  of 
term  “cause,”  88,  89;  effect  of  his 
ethical  physics,  125;  disregard  of 
scientific  analogy,  208;  on  value  of 
philosophy,  324;  on  becoming  just, 
342. 

Astronomy,  development  of  hypo¬ 
theses  in,  35-61 ;  first  of  the  natural 
sciences,  36;  observed  facts  of,  36- 
40;  explanation  in,  121. 

Authoritarian  and  scientific  explana¬ 
tions,  conflict  of,  45,  46. 

Authority,  improper  use  in  deter¬ 
mining  opinion,  46;  as  used  in 
traditional  view  of  Old  Testament, 
203-205;  reinforcement  by  associ¬ 
ated  emotions,  204;  in  scientific 
inquiry,  204,  205;  Saint  Jerome’s 
reference  in  Vulgate,  205. 

Autocracy,  arguments  for,  227. 

Axioms,  use  in  proof  for  Pythagorean 
theorem,  111 ;  different  sets  of,  111, 
112;  regarded  as  conventional  as¬ 
sumptions,  112;  of  Euclidean  ge¬ 
ometry  as  abstractions  from  ex¬ 
perience ,  114. 

Bacon,  on  the  method  of  investiga¬ 
tion,  76;  Advancement  of  Learning , 
quotation  from,  267. 

Beliefs,  superiority  of  one  over 
another,  331;  how  tested,  331-34: 


consistency  between,  337-339;  util¬ 
ity  of,  339,  340;  simplicity  as  a  test 
of,  340,  341.  See  also  Thought. 

Bessel,  measurement  of  star  Cygni, 
55;  relation  of  his  measurements 
to  Copernican  theory,  56. 

Bible,  early  division  of  books  of,  190- 
91 ;  opposition  between  two  views 
of,  195;  value  of,  209;  a  human  and 
divine  collaboration,  210;  first 
in  spiritual  literature  of  world, 

210,  211;  Coleridge’s  test  of,  210, 

211. 

Biblical  writings,  present  acceptance 
of,  191. 

Biological  evolution,  alleged  disproof 
of  divine  creation,  138;  belief, 
psychological  factors  in,  174-177. 

Biology,  discovery  of  causal  relations 
in,  63-95. 

Blackie,  J.  S.,  on  the  criticism  of  the 
Iliad,  195. 

Blood-tests,  as  evidence  for  evolu¬ 
tion,  172. 

Bradley,  discovery  of  star  move¬ 
ments,  56. 

Brahe,  Tycho,  planetary  system  of, 
55. 

Brandeis,  L.,  brief  in  case  of  Ritchie 
&  Co.  v.  Wayman,  295-296. 

Bryce,  summary  of  arguments  for 
democracy,  223-225. 

Burns,  D.,  arguments  for  autocracy, 
227. 

Cabot,  R.  C.,  Differential  Diagnosis, 

20. 

Caloric  theory,  early  physicists’,  130 
effect  of  thermometer  on,  131;  die" 
proof  of,  132. 

Career,  two  ways  of  choosing,  253, 
254;  information  necessary  for 
choice  of,  254. 

Catastrophic  theory,  uniformitarian- 
ism  opposed  to,  159,  160;  violation 
of  Law  of  Parsimony,  160;  James 
Hutton’s  criticism  of,  161. 

Causal  laws,  function  of,  119. 


344 


INDEX 


Causal  relations,  in  diagnosis  and 
hypotheses,  63,  64;  significance  of, 
63-66;  discovery  of,  in  biology, 
63-95;  complex  and  single,  64,  65; 
means  of  increasing  knowledge  of, 
65. 

Causal  relationship  difficulties  in  dis¬ 
covering,  86,  87. 

Causal  sequences,  occurrence  of  in 
nature,  92. 

Cause,  nature  of,  88-95;  and  effect, 
in  experimentation,  64. 

Chaldean  priests,  astronomical  rec¬ 
ords  of,  37. 

Character,  evaluation  of,  325-27. 

Classification,  a  key  to  meaning,  29, 
30;  comprehensive  knowledge  es¬ 
sential  to  good,  30;  basic  process 
in  all  steps  of  thought,  30,  31; 
Linnaeus’s  and  Cuvier’s  conception 
of  biological,  173;  necessity  for, 
173;  effect  of  evolution  on,  173, 
174;  older  form  of  exposed  by 
evolution,  174;  and  implication  in 
diagnosis,  28-31. 

Coleridge,  test  of  Bible,  210,  211. 

Collectivism,  case  for,  313-318;  sum¬ 
mary  of  argument  for,  317,  318; 
attempted  synthesis  with  individu¬ 
alism,  318-322;  consequences  of, 
321;  values  incorporated  by  in¬ 
dividualism,  322,  323. 

Collectivist,  illustration  of,  308; 
assumptions  of  individualism  de¬ 
nied  by,  313. 

Common  law,  274,  275;  reflective 
thinking  involved  in,  275. 

Compatibility,  without  implication, 
337. 

Copernican  revolution,  50. 

Copernican  theory,  importance  of, 
36 ;  explanation  of  planetary  move¬ 
ments,  48,  49;  a  brilliant  hypothe¬ 
sis,  50;  lack  of  decisive  proof  of,  51, 
52 ;  consistent  with  all  known  facts, 
52 ;  universal  acceptance  of,  52 ;  at¬ 
tractiveness  due  to  simplicity,  52, 
53;  relation  of  Bessel’s  measure¬ 
ments  to,  56;  proof  of,  56,  57;  still 
an  hypothesis,  57 ;  discovery  of 
Neptune  by,  58,  59;  value  in 
prediction,  58,  59;  congruity  with 
other  scientific  discoveries,  60; 
simplicity  of,  60;  elaboration  of, 


97;  popular  knowledge  of,  330. 
See  also  Heliocentric. 

Copernicus,  value  of  comparing  his 
belief  with  that  of  Ptolemy,  16; 
classification  of  earth,  30 ;  De  revolu- 
tionibus  orbium  ccelestium,  46-49; 
hypothesis  of,  46-50;  answer  to 
Ptolemy’s  argument  against  earth’s 
rotation,  47,  48;  assumption  of  epi¬ 
cycles  as  hypothetical  entities,  48. 

Correlation,  coefficient  of,  259,  260. 

Cuvier,  conception  of  biological 
classification,  173. 

Darwin,  problem  of,  161-167;  theory 
of  modification  of  species,  162,  163; 
development  of  theory  of  natural 
selection,  164,  165;  deductive  in¬ 
vestigations  of,  166;  summary  of 
method  of,  167. 

Davy,  Sir  Humphrey,  experiments 
with  heat  of  friction,  132. 

Deduction,  definition  of,  98. 

Deductive  elaboration,  in  mathema¬ 
tics,  97-117. 

Definition,  characteristics  of  good, 
31;  as  a  formula  for  work,  31,  32; 
as  basis  of  proof  for  Pythagorean 
theorem,  110,  111. 

Degeneration,  possibility  of,  in  evo¬ 
lution,  181. 

Democracy,  contrasting  arguments 
for,  223-225. 

Descartes,  on  nature,  115. 

Desire,  as  a  limitation  to  thought, 

12. 

Deuteronomy ,  a  historical  factor  in 
the  Pentateuch,  193,  194. 

Dewey,  John,  How  We  Think,  1,  2,  6; 
analysis  of  an  act  of  thought,  2;  def¬ 
inition  of  reflection,  2;  on  science 
of  morals,  249,  250. 

Diagnosis,  modern,  as  compared  with 
that  of  Ancient  Egypt,  20-33;  in 
Massachusetts  General  Hospital, 
21-23;  use  of  observation  in  cor¬ 
rect,  23-28. 

Edman,  Irwin,  Human  Traits  and 
Their  Social  Significance,  1,  6. 

Education,  function  of,  in  relation  to 
human  mind,  11. 

Egypt,  medical  treatment  in  ancient, 

20,  21. 


INDEX 


345 


Egyptian  priests,  astronomical  rec¬ 
ords  of,  37. 

Egyptian  surveyors,  use  of  right 
triangle,  102. 

Electron,  as  a  principle  of  universal 
explanation,  129. 

Elohist,  description  of,  193. 

Embryology,  support  of  evolutionary 
hypothesis,  171,  172. 

Epicycles,  a  planet’s  motion  in,  42; 
Copernicus’  assumption  of,  as  hy¬ 
pothetical  entities,  48. 

Ethical  situation,  301-307. 

Ethics,  reflection  in,  301-328;  stand¬ 
ards  as  cardinal  problem  in,  302; 
prejudices  as  a  hindrance  in,  302, 
303;  consequences  of  lack  of  con¬ 
viction  in,  303,  304;  compared 
with  natural  sciences,  306,  307; 
difficulty  of  determining  standards 
in,  306,  307;  monuments  in  field  of, 
323;  values  attained  through  re¬ 
flection  in,  323-325;  test  of  good 
reflective  thinking  in,  325;  prac¬ 
tical  aim  of,  327,  328. 

Euclid,  proof  of  Pythagorean  theo¬ 
rem,  107-110. 

Euclidean  geometry,  possibility  of  a 
system  displacing,  113;  axioms  of, 
considered  as  abstractions  from 
experience,  114. 

Evaluation,  choosing  definite  end  in 
process  of,  217,  218;  selecting 

unquestioned  good  in  process  of, 
220;  dogmatic  and  reflective 
methods  of,  220-227;  complex 
problem  of,  247 ;  summary  of 
processes  of,  301;  of  character, 
325-327. 

Evaluative  process,  importance  of 
reflection  in,  221,  222. 

Evolution,  definition  of,  153;  a  prin¬ 
ciple  of  explanation,  153-183; 
relation  to  uniformitarianism,  162; 
staten)  ent  of  in  Outline  of  Science, 
167;  confirmed  by  cumulative  char¬ 
acter  of  evidence,  168;  facts  of 
palaeontology  and  geography  ex¬ 
plained  by,  169;  cumulative  evi¬ 
dence  and  explanation  of,  169-172; 
facts  of  comparative  anatomy 
made  intelligible  by,  170;  verified 
by  genetics,  171;  embryology  in 
support  of  theory  of,  171,  172; 


blood-tests  as  evidence  for,  172; 
consequences  of  theory  of,  173; 
effect  of,  on  classification,  173, 
174;  older  classification  exposed 
by,  174;  psychological  factors  in 
belief  in,  176;  misconceptions  of, 
177-182;  as  historical  description, 
178;  not  self-explanatory,  178- 
180;  a  valid  explanation,  179,  180; 
not  necessarily  progressive,  ISO- 
182. 

Experience,  influence  for  agreement 
on  values,  246,  247. 

Experimental  methods,  74-87;  sym¬ 
bolical  illustration  of,  77 n. 

Experimentation,  cause  and  effect 
in,  64;  analysis  of  determining 
factors  in,  76;  Mill’s  analysis  of 
methods  of,  77-86;  Method  of 
Agreement  in,  78,  79;  Method  of 
Difference  in,  79,  80;  Joint  Method 
in,  81-83;  Method  of  Concomi¬ 
tant  Variations  in,  83,  84;  Method 
of  Residues  in,  84-86. 

Explanation,  conflict  of  authoritarian 
and  scientific,  45,  46;  function  of, 
in  physics,  119-151;  by  analogy, 
119-123;  meaning  to  scientists, 
120,  121;  in  astronomy,  121;  re¬ 
quired  to  be  simple  and  universal, 
121;  problem  of,  in  physics,  .121, 
122;  failure  of  scholastics  in,  124, 
125;  not  labeling,  126;  kinetic 
theory  as  simple,  128 ;  electron  as  a 
principle  of  universal,  129;  kinetic 
theory  as  achievement  in,  135; 
kinetic  theory  example  of,  136; 
nature  of,  137-151;  phenomena 
not  altered  by,  140,  141;  relations 
between  phenomena  not  changed 
by,  141,  142;  apparent  unreality  of 
complex  things  produced  by,  142, 
143;  things  not  “explained  away” 
by,  144;  more  than  one  applied 
to  one  event,  145-147 ;  different 
kinds  of,  147,  148;  Socrates’ 

criticism  of  scientific,  148,  149; 
summary  of  nature  of,  150,  151; 
evolution  as  principle  of,  153-183; 
evolution  a  valid,  179,  180. 

External  evidence,  in  historical 
inquiry,  189. 

Ezra,  probable  editor  of  fourth  sec¬ 
tion  of  Pentateuch,  194. 


346 


INDEX 


Fixed  stars,  apparent  rotation  of,  38. 

Fossil  series,  as  support  of  theory  of 
special  creation,  157;  filling  of  gaps 
in,  158;  causes  of  gaps  in,  158,  159. 

Fossils,  various  explanations  of, 

156,  167;  Lamarck’s  definition  of, 

157. 

Galle,  discovery  of  Uranus,  59. 

Garrison,  F.  H.,  History  of  Medicine , 

21. 

Genetics,  verification  of  evolutionary 
hypothesis  through,  171. 

Geocentric  theory,  limitations  of,  57, 
68.  See  also  Ptolemy. 

Geography,  facts  of,  intelligible  under 
evolution,  169. 

Geometry,  a  hypothetical  science, 
112,  113.  See  also  Mathematics. 

Habit,  as  a  limitation  to  thought,  12. 

Heat,  nature  of,  129-137;  early 
physicists’  conception  of,  130;  of 
friction,  Benjamin  Thompson’s  and 
Sir  Humphry  Davy’s  experiments 
with,  131,  132;  significance  of 
Thompson’s  and  Davy’s  experi¬ 
ments,  132, 133;  mechanical  equiva¬ 
lent  of,  133-135. 

Heliocentric  theory,  reasons  for 
acceptance  of,  51-57;  proof  of,  56, 
57;  an  hypothesis,  57.  See  also 
Copernican  theory. 

Herodotus,  on  Egyptian  medicine,  21. 

“Heterogenesis,”  former  acceptance 
of,  66;  revival  through  microscope, 
67;  growth  of  theory  of,  67,  68. 
See  also  Spontaneous  generation. 

Higher  criticism,  nature  of,  186-189. 

Hipparchus,  40. 

Historical  inquiry,  as  literary  inquiry, 
186;  character  of,  186-190;  exter¬ 
nal  and  internal  evidence  in,  189. 

History,  expansion  of  earth’s,  159; 
naturalistic  theory  of,  207;  pater¬ 
nalistic  theory  of,  207. 

Hume,  David,  on  causal  relations, 
90. 

Hutton,  J.,  criticism  of  catastrophic 
theory,  161. 

Huxley,  origin  of  organic  forms,  163. 

Hypothesis,  nature  of,  35, 36;  develop¬ 
ment  of,  in  astronomy,  35-61; 
Copernican,  46-50;  reasons  for  ac¬ 


ceptance  of  heliocentric,  51-57; 
value  of  simplicity  in,  53;  establish¬ 
ing  proof  of,  54;  the  fruitful,  57- 
59;  marks  of  a  good,  59-61;  selec¬ 
tion  of  experiments  to  test  an,  75, 
76;  interpreting  significance  of, 
137,  138;  justifying  one  by  another, 
209;  prerequisites  for  formation 
and  testing  of,  231. 

Illinois,  law  regulating  working  hours 
for  women,  282. 

Imagination,  necessary  for  new 
thinking,  13;  in  applying  induc¬ 
tive  methods,  91,  92. 

Immediate  values,  difficulty  of  pre¬ 
dicting,  239,  240;  experience  neces¬ 
sary  in  determining,  240,  241. 

Implication,  from  classification,  28- 
31;  relation  of,  in  mathematics, 
97-117 ;  science  of,  mathematics  as, 
98;  in  proof  for  Pythagorean 
theorem,  110,  111;  relation  of, 
337. 

Individual  differences,  255-257. 

Individualism,  case  for,  308-313; 
vs.  collectivism,  308-322;  general 
validity  of  conclusions  of,  312, 
313;  assumptions  of  denied  by 
collectivist,  313;  summary  of 
argument  for,  313;  reduced  to  an 
absurdity,  316;  attempted  synthe¬ 
sis  with  collectivism,  318-322; 
values  in,  incorporated  by  collec¬ 
tivism,  322,  323. 

Individualist,  illustration  of,  308. 

Individuality,  value  of,  311. 

Individuals,  progress  the  work  of, 
321. 

Induction,  process  of,  74,  75. 

Intelligence,  army  measurement  of, 
255,  256. 

Internal  evidence,  in  historical  in¬ 
quiry,  189;  an  example  of,  190. 

Jehovist,  description  of,  193. 

Joint  Method,  in  experimentation, 
81-83;  application  of,  to  preventive 
medicine,  82,  83. 

Joule,  J.  P.,  determination  of 
mechanical  equivalent  of  heat, 
133-135. 

Judgments,  necessity  for  system  of, 
in  courts,  294. 


INDEX 


347 


Jupiter,  apparent  path  of,  39. 

Kant,  on  a  good  will,  325. 

Kinetic  theory  of  matter,  126-129; 
explanation  of,  126,  127;  signifi¬ 
cance  of,  127,  128;  as  a  simple  ex¬ 
planation,  128;  knowledge  of  gases 
necessary  for  establishing,  133; 
as  an  achievement  in  explanation, 
135;  reasons  for  adoption  of,  135; 
fruitfulness  of,  135,  136;  as  an 
example  of  explanation,  136. 

Knowledge,  essential  to  thought,  13; 
ultimate  problems  concerning,  341, 
342. 

Kuenen,  on  criticism  of  the  Bible, 
195. 

Lamarck,  definition  of  fossils,  157. 

Lankester,  balance,  elaboration,  degen¬ 
eration,  181. 

Law,  use  of  standards  in,  250;  non- 
reflective  growth  of,  265-270; 
reflective  thinking  in,  265-299; 
traditional  principles  in,  267,  268; 
definitions  of,  268;  comparison  of 
scientific  with  human,  269;  group 
concepts  in,  270;  machinery  for 
reflective  thinking  in,  270,  271; 
reflective  making  of,  271,  276; 
precedents  in,  273;  judicial  inter¬ 
pretation  of,  273,  274;  distinct 
systems  of,  275,  276;  reflective 
application  of,  276-279;  correlating 
various  codes  of,  277;  defining  ex¬ 
act  meaning  of,  277 ;  four  types  of 
problems  in  application  of,  277- 
279;  best  interpretation  of,  278, 
279;  determining  facts  in,  279; 
reflective  thinking  in,  280—299; 
constitutional,  origin  of,  in  public 
opinion,  280,  281;  analysis  of  case 
of  reflective  thinking  in,  280-299; 
empirical  definition  in,  292;  com¬ 
parison  with  mathematics,  292, 
293;  redefining  concepts  in,  298; 
criticisms  of,  302. 

Legal  “Act  of  Thought,”  270-280. 

Legal  thinking,  division  of  labor  in, 
272,  273;  summary  of  analysis  of, 
279,  280. 

Legislation,  regulating  working  hours 
for  women,  agitation  for,  281. 

Leverrier,  computations  in  discovery 
of  Neptune,  59. 


Linnseus,  special  creation,  155,  156, 
161;  conception  of  biological  classi¬ 
fication,  173. 

Lobachevsky,  axioms  describing 
space,  113. 

Loeb,  mechanistic  theory  of  ethical 
activity,  139. 

Logic,  comparison  of  this  treatment 
with  formal,  16. 

Lower  criticism,  nature  of,  187. 

Lyell,  on  forms  in  fossil  series,  158; 
Principles  of  Geology,  quotation 
from,  162. 

Magruder,  opinion  of  court  in 
Ritchie  v.  The  People,  283. 

Malthus,  Principle  of  Population , 
significance  to  Darwin,  164,  165. 

Massachusetts  General  Hospital, 
modern  diagnosis  in,  21-23. 

Mathematical  figures,  relation  to 
objects  of  nature,  106,  107. 

Mathematical  proof,  advantages  of, 
over  empirical  testing,  10. 

Mathematical  reasoning,  nature  and 
function  of,  97-101. 

Mathematical  thinking,  the  essen¬ 
tials  of  good,  116,  117. 

Mathematics,  deductive  elaboration 
in,  97-117;  relation  of  implication 
in,  97-117;  “the  science  of  implica¬ 
tion,”  98;  relation  to  other  sciences, 

98,  99;  certainty  of  conclusions, 

99,  100;  alleged  limitations  of  field 
of,  100;  an  instrument  for  testing, 

100,  101;  ease  of  applying  tests  to, 
101;  as  a  key  to  nature,  lf5,  116; 
dependence  of  science  upon,  130; 
dependence  of  physics  upon,  133; 
process  of  “reduction”  in,  139, 
140;  difficulty  of  applying  in  field 
of  values,  232,  233;  comparison  of 
science  of  law  with,  292,  293; 
consistency  with  fact  in,  335,  336. 

Matter,  kinetic  theory  of,  126-129. 

Measurements,  for  use  in  social 
decisions,  253-263;  some  require¬ 
ments  of,  257,  258;  establishing 
relationships  through,  258,  259; 
application  to  individual  case,  260, 
261;  in  determining  educational 
curriculum,  261,  262;  social  util¬ 
ity  of,  261-263;  application  to 
school  administration,  262. 


348 


INDEX 


Mediate  values,  natural  science 
mainly  concerned  with,  214. 

Mental  capacity,  permanence  of,  257. 

Method  of  Agreement,  application 
of,  to  Pasteur’s  work,  78;  in  experi¬ 
mentation,  78,  79;  limitations  of, 
78,  79;  used  by  Joule,  135. 

Method  of  Concomitant  Variations, 
application  of,  to  work  of  Pasteur, 
83,  84;  in  experimentation,  83,  84; 
application  to  measurements,  258. 

Method  of  Difference,  in  experimen¬ 
tation,  79,  80;  in  Pasteur’s  work, 
80;  limitations  of,  80;  in  determin¬ 
ing  cause,  91;  in  experiments  with 
heat  of  friction,  132. 

Method  of  Residues  in  experimen¬ 
tation,  84-86. 

Mill,  J.  S.,  methods  of  experimenta¬ 
tion,  77-86;  on  higher  and  lower 
forms  of  satisfaction,  241,  242. 

“Miltonic  hypothesis,”  154,  155. 

Mind,  classifications  of,  6,  7 ;  value  in 
different  types  of,  7 ;  limited  by 
habit,  8;  limited  by  impulsiveness, 
8,  9;  free  and  flexible,  9;  in  control¬ 
ling  nature  and  using  new  knowl¬ 
edge,  10;  in  improving  human  ex¬ 
istence,  11;  education  in  relation 
to,  11;  products  of,  14;  utility  of, 
14;  and  the  future,  14,  15;  in  the 
study  of  human  behavior,  14,  15. 

Moon,  apparent  rotation  of,  39. 

Moral  codes,  security  afforded  by, 
305;  of  primitive  peoples,  prohibi¬ 
tions  in,  310. 

Moral  judgments,  244,  245. 

Moral  principles,  emergence  of,  248- 
251;  readaptation  of ,  249,  250. 

Moral  skeptic,  arguments  of,  246. 

Moral  standards,  variations  in,  245, 
246. 

Moral  traits,  variability  in,  256,  257. 

Morality,  popular  view  of,  304,  305. 

Morals,  arise  of  reflection  in,  305, 
306. 

Natural  science,  mainly  concerned 
with  mediate  values,  214;  compared 
with  ethics  as  to  methods  of  study, 
306,  307. 

Natural  selection,  Darwin’s  develop¬ 
ment  of  theory  of,  164,  165;  im¬ 
portance  of,  165,  166. 


Nature,  uniformity  of,  92,’  93,'  94. 

Neptune,  discovery  of,  by  Copemi- 
can  theory,  58,  59. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  on  simplicity  of 
nature,  53. 

Nuttall,  Professor,  blood-test  ex¬ 
periments,  172. 

Observation,  differences  in;  23-28; 
in  modern  diagnosis,  23-28;  past 
knowledge  in,  24,  25;  comprehen¬ 
siveness  in,  25;  progresaiveness  of; 
26;  proper  mental  attitude  in,  26, 
27;  physiological  normality  essen¬ 
tial  to  correct,  27 ;  mechanical  in¬ 
struments  in,  27;  three  important 
tests  of,  28. 

Old  Testament,  traditional  and 
critical  views  of,  196-196;  state¬ 
ment  of  traditional  view  of,  191, 
192;  statement  of  critical  view  of, 
192—194;  methods  of  critical  in¬ 
quiry  into,  201-202;  tradition  in 
traditional  view  of,  202,  203; 

methods  of  traditional  school  in, 
202-209;  authority  in  traditional 
view  of,  203-205;  a  'priori  reason¬ 
ing  in  traditional  view  of,  205, 
209. 

Origin,  history  alone  does  not  ac¬ 
count  for,  178,  179. 

Origin  of  life,  “  spontaneous  genera¬ 
tion”  as  the,  66-68;  Pasteur’s 
investigations  with,  69-74. 

Palaeontology,  under  evolutionary 
hypothesis,  169. 

Paley,  Natural  Theology,  163,  164. 

Paradise  Lost,  special  creation  in, 
154,  155. 

Parsimony,  law  of,  53,  340,  341; 
catastrophic  theory  violation  of, 
160. 

Pasteur,  applying  knowledge  of  fer¬ 
mentation,  14;  investigations  with 
origin  of  living  beings,  69-74;  ex¬ 
periment  justifying  his  hypothesis, 
70,  71;  method  of  investigation, 
72;  results  of  discovery,  72-74; 
Method  of  Agreement  in  work  of, 
78;  Method  of  Difference  in  work 
of,  80;  Joint  Method  in  work  of, 
81,  82;  Method  of  Concomitant 
Variations  in  work  of,  83,  84;  causaf 


INDEX  349 


relationship  in  experiments  of,  86, 
87. 

Paternalistic  theory  of  history,  why 
unscientific,  208. 

Pentateuch,  criticism  of,  186-211; 
three  historical  writings  in,  192- 
194;  fourth  section  of,  194;  funda¬ 
mental  contentions  in  critical  view 
of,  195;  arguments  of  critical  view 
of,  196-201;  composite  character 
of,  196-199;  differences  in  state¬ 
ment  in,  197,  198;  differences  of 
style  in,  198;  differences  in  theo¬ 
logical  conception  in,  198,  199; 
critical  argument  on  date  and 
authorship,  199-201. 

Physics,  function  of  explanation  in, 
119-151;  problem  of  explanation 
in,  121,  122;  orderliness  in,  122, 
123;  possibility  of  all-comprehen¬ 
sive  formula  in,  123. 

Planets,  courses  of,  38,  40;  motion 
in  epicycle,  42. 

Planetary  movements,  explanation 
of  by  Copernican  theory,  48,  49. 

Planetary  system  of  Tycho  Brahe, 
55. 

Plato,  death  of  Socrates,  148,  149; 
on  knowledge  and  ignorance,  342. 

Positivism,  in  Old  Testament  critical 
inquiry,  201,  202. 

Precedents,  use  of,  in  law,  273;  in 
case  of  Ritchie  v.  The  People,  291, 
292. 

Preferences,  necessity  for  elaboration 
of,  218,  219. 

Prejudices,  as  a  hindrance  in  ethics, 
302,  303. 

Propositions,  relations  between,  97, 98. 

Psychology,  errors  in  explanations 
of,  144. 

Ptolemaic  theory,  importance  of,  36; 
reasons  for  admiring,  44,  45;  limi¬ 
tations  of,  57,  58;  inadequacy  in 
prediction,  58,  59;  lack  of  sim¬ 
plicity  of,  60.  See  also  Ptolemy. 

Ptolemy,  value  of  comparing  his 
belief  with  that  of  Copernicus,  16; 
the  Almagest,  40;  hypothesis  of, 
40-45;  explanation  of  retrograde 
motions  of  planets,  41;  observation 
and  natural  explanations,  44; 
scientific  imagination,  44;  con¬ 
struction  of  hypotheses  of  single 


type,  44,  45;  argument  against 
rotation  of  earth,  47. 

Pythagoras,  belief  in  spherical  char¬ 
acter  of  earth,  41;  observation  of 
rope-stretchers’  triangle,  103. 

Pythagorean  theorem,  development 
of,  100-104;  proof  for  isosceles 
right  triangle,  103-107;  general 
proof,  107-110;  proof  for  series  of 
“implications,”  110;  critical  ex¬ 
amination  of  proof  for,  110-116; 
definition  as  basis  of  proof  for, 
110,  111;  use  of  axioms  in  proof  for, 
111 ;  use  of  principles  of  implication 
in  proof  for,  111. 

Reality,  and  unreality,  distinction 
between,  143,  144. 

Redi,  Francesco,  experiments  in 
“spontaneous  generation,”  66,  67. 

“Reduction,”  scientific  process  of, 
138,  139. 

Reflection,  definition  of,  1,  2;  oc¬ 
casion  of,  2,  3;  Dewey’s  definition 
of,  2;  progressive  steps  in,  2-6; 
in  dealing  with  values,  214-216; 
ability  to  clarify  ends  and  evaluate 
means,  220;  importance  of,  in 
evaluative  process,  221,  222;  in 
elaboration  of  ends;  227-237 ;  in 
criticism  of  standards,  237-248; 
necessity  for,  in  field  of  values, 
247,  248;  purpose  of,  in  law,  267; 
in  application  of  law,  276-279; 
in  ethics,  301-328;  in  ethics,  values 
attained  through,  323-325;  in 
ethics,  approaching  solutions 
through,  324;  in  ethics,  clarifica¬ 
tion  of  desires  through,  323,  324; 
in  ethics,  effect  of,  on  conduct, 
324;  rise  of,  in  morals,  305,  306; 
necessity  for  practice  in,  342.  See 
also  Thought  and  Reflective 
thought. 

Reflective  Thinking,  purpose  and 
method  of  book,  15-18. 

Reflective  thought,  method  of  deal¬ 
ing  with  past,  186-211;  in  the 
field  of  values,  213-251;  in  law, 
265-299;  in  common  law,  275; 
analysis  of,  case  of,  in  law,  280- 
299;  problem  of,  in  law,  298,  299; 
in  ethics,  test  of  good,  325.  See 
also  Reflection  and  Thought. 


350 


INDEX 


Relation  of  implication,  defined,  98; 
in  mathematics,  97-117. 

Relations,  subsisting  between  pro¬ 
positions,  97,  98. 

Riemann,  axioms  describing  space, 
113. 

Riggs  v.  Palmer,  case  of,  278,  279. 

Ritchie  &  Co.  v.  Wayman,  state¬ 
ment  of  case  of,  295;  Brandeis’s 
brief  in  case  of,  295,  296;  in¬ 
fluence  of  empirical  facts  in  case 
of,  297. 

Ritchie  v.  The  People,  statement  of 
case  of,  282;  argument  in  opinion 
of  court,  283-290;  interpretations 
in  case  of,  290,  291 ;  precedents  in 
case  of,  291,  292;  main  argument 
in  case  of,  293;  experience  in  judg¬ 
ing  case  of,  294. 

Robinson,  J.  H.,  thinking  in  social 
and  natural  sciences,  229,  230. 

Rumford,  Count,  experiments  with 
heat  of  friction,  131,  132. 

Russell,  Bertrand,  definition  of  math¬ 
ematics,  115. 

Saint  Jerome,  reference  to  authority 
in  Vulgate,  205. 

Scholastics,  theory  of  nature  of  phys¬ 
ical  objects,  123-126. 

Science,  methods  of  experimental, 
63-95;  lack  of  conclusiveness  in 
application  of,  312;  modern  con¬ 
sciousness  of,  330,  331. 

Scientific  analogy,  in  Old  Testament 
critical  inquiry,  201;  Aristotle’s 
disregard  of,  208;  explanation  of, 
208. 

Scientific  and  authoritarian  explana¬ 
tions,  conflict  of,  45,  46. 

Scott,  Professor,  organic  species  not 
immutable,  171. 

Scripture,  improper  use  of,  in  deter¬ 
mining  opinion,  46. 

Skepticism,  part  of  reason  in  face  of, 
246. 

Social  sciences,  slow  growth  of,  228, 
230;  obstacles  in  the  field  of,  230- 
237 ;  value  of  statistics  in,  233. 

Socrates,  criticism  of  scientific  ex¬ 
planation,  148,  149. 

Soddy,  Frank,  Matter  and  Energy, 
quotations  from,  143. 

Solar  system,  primary  reason  for 


theories  of,  39;  movements  ex¬ 
plained  by  theories  of,  40. 

Special  creation,  definition  of,  153; 
description  of,  in  Paradise  Lost , 
154,  155;  analysis  of  theory  of, 
154-156;  argument  for,  156-158; 
supported  by  observation  of  fossil 
series,  157 ;  an  inference  only,  157, 
158;  new  acts  of  inferred,  157,  158; 
limitations  of  theory  of,  160,  161; 
teleological  explanation  associated 
with,  163,  164. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  mingling  of  evolu¬ 
tion  and  progress,  180. 

Spinoza,  on  anthropomorphism,  175, 
176. 

“Spontaneous  generation,”  66-68. 

Standards,  evaluating  means  for 
attaining,  237;  reflective  criticism 
of,  237-248;  difficulties  of  deter¬ 
mining  common,  238,  239;  dis¬ 
agreement  arising  from  attempt 
to  clarify,  242,  243;  emergence 
of,  248-251;  use  of,  in  law,  250; 
failure  to  achieve,  327,  328;  in 
ethics,  difficulty  of  determining, 
306,  307 ;  as  cardinal  problem,  302. 

Stars,  apparent  rotation  of  fixed,  38. 

State,  characteristics  of  perfect,  319, 
320;  weaknesses  of  actual,  320, 
321. 

Statistics,  value  of,  in  social  sciences, 
233. 

Suggestions  in  reflection,  mental 
elaboration  of,  4;  when  penetrat¬ 
ing,  4. 

Sun,  apparent  rotation  of,  39. 

Syrian  bishop,  use  of  Scripture  in  at¬ 
tacking  theories,  45. 

Teleological  explanation,  associated 
with  special  creation,  163,  164. 

Tennyson,  mingling  of  evolution  and 
progress,  180. 

Theories  of  solar  system,  primary 
reasons  for,  39;  movements  ex¬ 
plained  by,  40. 

Thermometer,  significance  of  inven¬ 
tion  of,  130,  131;  effect  of,  on 
caloric  theory,  131. 

Thomson,  B.,  experiments  with  heat 
of  friction,  131,  132. 

Thorndike,  E.  L.,  Individuality,  6. 

Thought,  varieties  of,  1,  2;  Dewey’s 


INDEX 


351 


analysis  of  an  act  of,  2;  variations 
in  human  capacity  for,  6-11;  how 
limited,  11-13;  comparison  of,  in 
natural  sciences  and  in  social 
sciences,  18;  tests  of,  333,  334;  in¬ 
fluence  of  subject-matter  upon 
tests  of,  334-341;  clarity  in,  335; 
consistency  with  facts  in,  335-337 ; 
utility  of,  339,  340.  See  also  Re¬ 
flection  and  Reflective  Thought. 

Tradition,  as  used  in  traditional 
view  of  Old  Testament,  202,  203. 

Tycho  Brahe,  planetary  system  of, 
55. 

Uranus,  discovery  and  plotting  of 
future  positions  of,  58. 

Uniformitarianism,  opposed  to  ca¬ 
tastrophic  theory,  159,  160;  illus¬ 
trated  by  Hutton,  161 ;  relation  of, 
to  evolution,  162. 

Uniformity  of  nature,  93,  94. 

Values,  reflection  in  field  of,  213-251; 
mediate  and  immediate,  213-220; 


obstacles  in  the  field  of,  230-237; 
lack  of  general  laws  in  field  of, 
231,  232;  difficulty  of  applying 
mathematics  in  field  of,  232,  233; 
more  refined  knowledge  demanded 
in  field  of,  233;  prejudices  in  field 
of,  234,  235;  lack  of  laboratory  in 
field  of,  236;  experience  in,  242; 
judgments  of,  243,  244;  influence 
of  experience  for  agreement  on, 
246,  247;  necessity  for  reflection 
in  field  of,  247,  248. 

Variation,  in  human  ability  to  think, 
6-11. 

Variety,  of  living  things,  153,  154. 

Wells,  H.  G.,  on  fruitfulness  of 
scientific  investigations,  229. 

White,  A.  D.,  on  special  creation,  156. 

Witnesses,  difference  in  powers  of 
observation  of,  188,  189;  mental 
tendencies  of,  189. 

Working  hours  for  women,  agitation 
for  regulation  of,  281;  Illinois  law 
regulating,  282. 


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